Iuro Omnes Vivere
by rantandrumour
Summary: Eighteen years after Alex believed him to be dead, a familiar face pops up. But how? He had died in 1984. Sequel to The Long and Winding Road
1. Prologue

**Spero...Spero id non solvit... 20 points and kudos to whoever gets the meaning of the title. Boy, you'd get a huge spoiler. Ah well. **

**Eighty percent of you voted yes for a sequel to The Long and Winding Road. So sequel (it took me 4 goes to type that correctly) it is! I hope you enjoy! This is just a little fluff, but how often do I write that?  
**

**Prologue: 2002**

Alex woke early. She tried to determine what had woken her. It certainly wasn't Gene snoring beside her. He may snore to wake the dead, but she'd gotten used to that over the past eighteen years. She rolled to her side, when she finally placed it.

The letter box had clanged downstairs. It was way too early for the postman. Frowning, she got out of bed and put on her dressing gown. Gene didn't stir as she walked past him out of the room, down the stairs to the front door.

She had to suppress a shudder when she saw the white envelope sitting on the floor in front of the door. The sight brought back the memory of a similar one from eighteen years previously, one that resigned her to what she believed was her doom. Of course Gene had saved her, but it didn't stop the memories from haunting her on occasion.

Alex picked up the envelope, looking at the handwriting on the front. Though she knew she was being silly, she felt a surge of relief when it didn't match the one that had been left at Mark's house. She could still remember the man's handwriting; it was burned into her brain.

Alex opened up the envelope, pulling out the sheet of paper inside.

_Reply and post it back out._

_Can I bring a guest?_

_ME_

Alex grinned. "You are such a child," she murmured, as she searched for a pen. She finally found one and scribbled back a reply.

_I have half a mind to open the door, find you and yell at you, but Gene won't be happy that I woke him up with you hanging around at five in the morning. _

_It's perfectly fine for you to bring a guest. Just the one?_

_AH_

She posted it outside, feeling like a fool and started to walk to the kitchen to make coffee to start her day. However, as she was measuring the grounds, the letterbox clanged again. She pushed the button to brew the coffee and walked back to the front door, where only the paper was laying on the floor.

_You'd never find me. I'm a master of disguise. Of course you made it bloody hard to hide in your front garden with all these sodding thorny plants. So basically, you'd never find me because I'm invisible. _

_Yes. It's just the one._

_ME_

Alex grinned and wrote back.

_Ah, how I've missed your bullshit. Speaking of bullshit, I look forward to the story you're going to be telling us on Sunday. _

_Do you want us to get rid of the twins? It's entirely possible._

_AH_

She posted it again, and went to pour herself a cup of coffee. As she walked back, she heard the now expected clang.

_You better be sitting comfortably. It's a bit of a long story. _

_UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES ARE YOU TO KILL YOUR CHILDREN. That would be murder, and I'd have to report you. But if you want to send them to their friends, that's up to you. _

_ME_

Alex snorted as she heard noise coming from upstairs. She hastily scribbled back a reply and posted it back, just as someone started down the stairs.

Mark grabbed the paper, opening it up to read it.

_I'm going to slap you, you do know that? You're almost more irritating than Gene._

There was a small scribble, and the rest of her message was hardly legible.

_Someone's coming downstairs now. Leave now. _

_AH_

Mark heard her through the door, talking to someone with a deep voice, whom he suspected to be Gene. He slowly started moving to make his getaway, but before he could disappear, a piece of paper was posted through the other side of the door.

_Mark._

_Get your lardy arse away from this house before I grab my warrant card and arrest you for trespassing. I'll see you Sunday at six, and not a moment before. And 'you' means you, your bloody notes, and any other form of conversation you can think of. _

_Bloody spook._

_GH_

Mark snorted, standing and leaving. Sunday was going to be interesting, that was certain. He got into his car, starting to drive the quieter early-morning London streets, lost in thought, remembering back when he had 'died.' God, how his life had turned out since.

**I would like to hold a moment of silence, for on this date, two years ago, we learned the truth, and Alex was sent away from Gene until he can move on too.**

**May Alex Drake of the present rest in peace, and Alex Drake of the past slap Gene silly for making her leave when he finally goes to the pub. **

**I would also like to remind my readers that one year ago today was the supposed end of the world. I was delighted, because I was in London for the end of the world, hanging out with Luigi's, and my good mate Rolephant, whom you may remember from A/N's in my early works (seriously. we were completely mad before she got old :P I LOVE YOU ROLLY P! [I'm SO calling you that now.]) The world didn't end but we had a blast anyway. **

**This chapter is dedicated to Rolly P, being chased around heaven, crimping down Queensway, train surfing, and Smiley Jesus.**

**And remember readers**

**SMILEY JESUS IS WATCHING YOU.**

**Next chap up the 26th**


	2. Chapter 1: Dying

**And so begins the journey into Mark's past. For those of you that follow my tumblr, you'll know that this story is going to end up quite strange. But hopefully you'll enjoy it!**

**Chapter 1: Dying**

**Mid-February, 1984**

The first thing that he was aware of was that his body ached. It was a dull throbbing ache, something one might feel after a workout they weren't used to. But he knew he hadn't been working out. He just wished that he did know what was causing the pain.

He became aware that his eyes were closed and realised that if he opened them, he may be able to figure out what was going on. However, they felt like lead, and as hard as he tried to open them, they remained shut tightly. He relaxed, knowing that at the moment, he wasn't going to win the fight against them.

What had happened? Slowly, the memories started to emerge through the fog and he started to piece things together. Alex had been missing for a week. He thought that she had run, and so did Gene. They found out she was being held hostage. The raided the place. George was a traitor. And then, the sound of gunfire. The bullet flying towards him, and he, too slow to get out of the way in time. Pain suddenly exploding through his chest. And Alex, crying over him, begging him to stay.

He knew where he was. He had to be dead. Just as Danny had warned him. He had gotten too involved in the case and it had killed him. He was probably six feet under, and now he was waking up in the afterlife. So, had he gotten to heaven or hell?

Once more he started the battle against his eyelids. Slowly, he started to win against them and opened his eyes, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the light. He looked around, drinking in the details, from the curtains around him, to Danny sitting next to his side, reading a paper.

"Definitely hell then," he said, loud enough for Danny to hear him. Danny set down the paper and looked at him furiously.

"You almost died, Mark."

"Did I not?" Mark asked dryly, looking down at his body, covered by the bed sheets. "Oh."

"This isn't funny," Danny hissed. "You barely made it out of surgery. Alex Drake is being watched carefully overnight because they're not sure what she might do. Hunt is pacing the corridors with worry about her, and you're department still doesn't know whether you've made it through surgery."

Mark sighed, looking up at the ceiling. He really had screwed things up exponentially this time. He knew there was only one answer.

"Well, then tell them," he said.

"Tell them what?"

"That I've died. Tell them that Mark Evans died of his wounds. Tell them that I made it through surgery, and then bled to death. I don't care. I'm done, Danny."

"But..."

"You know as well as I do that there's no recovering from the mistakes I made on this last mission. They'll probably decommission me anyway. At least this way, I can do it on my own terms."

He sighed, fighting against falling asleep. Danny was looking at him in concern. "Are you sure, Mark? You know what this means. No contact with your family, your friends, you'll have to get out of London for a few years at the very least..."

"I know. Do it," he mumbled, slipping back into a dreamless sleep.

~(*)~

Danny walked down the corridor, his face a mask. He saw Gene pacing anxiously around the corridor, the same way he had been an hour earlier.

"You okay, Hunt?"

Gene nodded stiffly. "They're in, giving her some pain meds and helping her to the loo. She's pissed off that she can't even have a slash by herself."

"Well, would you be happy?"

"Mark..." Gene said, choosing to ignore the question.

Danny looked down and shook his head. "I'm afraid not. Haemorrhage after surgery."

"Shit," he breathed.

"Do you want me to...?"

"No," Gene interrupted. "I'll do it."

"How is she dealing with it?"

"She wouldn't let go of me coat the whole way here. Poor mare was just shaking and crying. She hasn't said a word since she got here."

Danny immediately felt guilty, but suppressed it, just like he had been taught to do so long ago. "We'll let you know when the funeral is," he said.

Gene just nodded stiffly. Danny walked on, out of the hospital, taking the Tube back to the Grid.

Everyone looked up as soon as he walked in. "Danny," Harry murmured.

Danny swallowed his guilt, giving his head a tiny shake. "We will clean out his desk in the morning."

~(*)~

Mark woke slowly, bored. He had been in intensive care for several days now, and they were finally moving him to a different unit. All he had been able to do was sleep and eat, and answer the questions of ever persistent doctors and nurses. He had not quite thought of how _lonely _being dead would be.

He thought constantly about Alex and Gene, wondering how she was dealing, how he was dealing with her. He hoped that she would not be thrown back on her progress too much, that she would listen to his last words to her. He knew that what he had said was accurate. He could never love her like Gene did.

Someone walked into the room. Mark looked up, interested, wondering who it could be.

"Didn't think I'd see you again," he said.

Danny gave a small smile. "You need an identification, don't you? I brought all your papers for you."

"Ah, right," he said, sitting up, wincing as his wound started to throb. "I forgot about that."

"You always did forget the important things," Danny said, reaching into his jacket and pulling out an envelope. "Bank account numbers, references from your previous job, everything you need to start your new life. A flat key is in there; the address is next to it. We've relocated all your things to Bath, save for the paintings. Those went to Alex, as you wished."

Mark smiled softly. "Do you know how she's doing?"

"She looked pretty broken up at your funeral, but Hunt will take care of her. We changed your will a bit, so that you were left with some money. Alex and Hunt received half of the specified amount, which still leaves you a substantial sum. Also, we'll be giving you a pension, which isn't shabby."

"Not even forty and I'm already a pensioner," Mark said softly.

Danny smiled softly. "You know you could still come back."

"I'm dead, Danny. Everyone on the grid but you thinks I'm dead."

"They'll understand if you come back."

"My family. My friends. Everyone who went to my funeral. What will they think?"

Danny sighed. "You're right, of course. I just don't want to see your talent go to waste. What are you going to do with your life, Mark?"

"Arthur," Mark said, looking at his new driving licence. "Call me Arthur, Danny."

"What are you going to do with your life, _Arthur?"_

Mark smiled. "Dunno yet. I could go into some sort of office work, but I'd be starting at the bottom. Not really something I want to do at my age. I want something relaxing though. Maybe I'll become a bartender."

"You think that's relaxing?" Danny asked incredulously. "People shouting at you their orders, rushes, making sure everything's correct?"

Mark raised an eyebrow. "More relaxing than my previous profession, and less desk work."

Danny laughed. "You're right. Damn, Ma...Arthur. You've got me debating about whether or not I want to be a bartender now."

"Don't. The wages are awful." Mark grinned again, and Danny chuckled.

"I wish we could keep in touch, Arthur Newton, but unfortunately circumstances dictate that we are not able to. I hope you have a nice life in Bath. Meet a girl. Settle down. Be a bloody bartender."

"Meeting a girl at my age is impossible, Danny. I got lucky with Alex, and she was already in love with another man."

"Who was older and less refined than you, may I add. You've got plenty of hope if _Hunt _can get a bird like Alex."

Mark smiled. "I guess you could be right. Well I'll cross my fingers, but I won't be holding my breath."

"Good man! Unfortunately, Mark...Arthur, I've got to go."

"Wait. Danny. Can I come back to London?"

Danny looked at him for a moment before responding. "_Mark Evans_ should never step foot in London again," he said mysteriously before exiting the room.

Mark sighed, leaning back against the pillows, disappointed, thinking about what Danny said. It was good that Alex was dealing with his 'death.' He didn't realize how he would miss her, even though he had planned on disappearing after the case with Will Grey/Walter Green. She had made him feel something he had never felt before. When he was with her, he had felt like he mattered, like there was a point to him being on the planet. He had never experienced that before in his life. As a child, his dad had always treated him as worthless, and no matter how much he excelled at anything, his dad had made him feel like a failure. Because he couldn't tell his parents that he was a part of MI-5, just part of the government, his dad had even found fault in that. But Mark knew that even if his dad knew that he was part of MI-5, he'd still be disappointed. Being one of 'those spooky bastards' was a high offence in his father's book.

But Alex had found it interesting. She had understood, at least partially. She had been the only person off the Grid that he had been perfectly honest with. And now he couldn't see her again.

Mark stopped himself mid-thought. He was starting to spiral into a place that he wouldn't get out of. He needed to stop thinking about her. Alex was a different life. Alex was Mark Evan's failed relationship. He was Arthur. Arthur Newton. He had a shitty name, but he couldn't really help the matter.

"My name is Arthur Newton," he breathed to himself. "I had a position with the government until I was shot. Now I'm moving to Bath to relax and actually have the life I missed out on in London. Maybe this time, I won't throw my life to crap."

He closed his eyes as someone entered the room. He opened his eyes to see a nurse peering at him suspiciously. "Arthur Newton?" she asked him suspiciously.

He recognised her. She had taken care of him for several days. She was going to know now what he was, but he didn't care. She'd sign the form, be sworn to secrecy, and he would never see her after he got out of this goddamned hospital.

"Yes," he replied.

"I'm Lily. I'm going to be your nurse for the next shift. How's your pain?"

"It's at a three right now. I can't have anything for a few hours, can I?"

"Nothing strong. Just paracetamol."

"That's what I thought. I was just checking. But I don't want anything right now, no."

The nurse nodded, gave him a quick assessment and left the room. He stared at the ceiling, bored. He decided to go through the items Danny had left for him. He found the key Danny had mentioned, along with a piece of paper with an address written on it. He read the address, committing it to memory, before looking through the rest of the envelope. As he pulled out the last item, he gave a small laugh. It was a map of Bath, with the street his flat was on circled three times in red pen.

"Thanks Danny," he murmured.

He threw the items on the table next to him, and settled back into his pillows. It was almost time for supper, and though he wasn't excited about trying to force down the food, it broke the monotony of staring at the ceiling.

Suddenly he grinned.

Danny had said that _Mark Evans_ could never come back to London. Mark Evans was dead. Danny never said anything about Arthur Newton.

He smiled to himself. He'd go to Bath. He'd live there for a few years, but eventually, he knew, he would return to London.

**I just want to take a moment to say that a year ago today I met the _fabulous_ Keeley Hawes. She really was as amazing as everyone said, and I even saw her husband in person as well! (Clean shaven with glasses, and though I'm not as much a fan of him, in person...woah.)**

**Next chapter will be up eventually ;)**


	3. Chapter 2: Sarah

**For those of you who follow my Tumblr, the Iggy/Caligula nonsense I've been posting finally will make sense. This whole fic has gone a bit mad, but with no Alex angst, it's only to be expected.**

**Chapter 2: Sarah**

**August 1984. Bath.**

Mark scratched his head with a pencil, staring at the trees of the park. The park was full of people, enjoying the warm day. It was clear out today, a monstrous feat for any city in England. Mark stared at his sketchpad. He was trying to revive his long lost drawing skills, but to no avail. He just didn't like the pencil and paper. He much preferred the long strokes of the brush against canvas, the colours mixing together beautifully before his eyes. Pencil was just too...grey.

He tossed his sketchpad aside, thinking. Maybe if he bought some coloured pencils, sketching would be more fun. It would be closer to what he did on canvas and he could take it anywhere. Or, he could buy a travel painting kit, if they made those.

Mark sighed, ready to leave. He had been bored since leaving London. He hadn't expected how mundane civilian's lives were. All the time he had been dreaming about how nice it must be to not know government secrets, and now he wished that he could be in the thick of it again. He wished that he could get into contact with Danny and beg to come back, but he knew that the option was closed. The decision had been made permanent once the casket had been laid in the ground and covered. At that moment, Mark Evans the spook was dead forever.

He was still having trouble coming to terms with it, especially with responding without thinking to the name 'Arthur'. Although he had used it on cases, he'd never needed it for a permanent form. He'd never spent days and weeks under that name, precisely why it had been chosen from his aliases. Because with that name, no one would remember him except passing acquaintances.

He stood, starting to collect his things when something hit him in the back of the legs, knocking him over. Furious, he rolled onto his back, ready to get up and yell at whoever had knocked him down, when something wet started covering his face.

Mark realised that he was being licked by a dog. _Bloody owner can't control their sodding dog, they shouldn't have it,_ he thought disjointedly, more concerned with getting the tongue away from his face. He angrily pushed the dog's face away, but the dog put its paws on his chest, looking down at him, its tongue lolling happily out of his mouth. He recognised it as a Labrador, probably just out of puppy stages, but still pretty big. The dog was black, with amber eyes and a long tail that Mark could see wagging back and forth.

"Iggy!" a woman shouted breathlessly. "Bad dog! Down boy!"

The dog did nothing, except for start to lick Mark's face again.

"Caligula!" the woman shouted angrily. Immediately, the dog stopped his attack, and backed down, his tail between his legs. "Sit." The dog sat, looking shamefaced, and the woman ran up to Mark.

"I am _so _sorry," she said. "I was walking him, and he saw a squirrel and..."

"Found me instead," Mark finished, brushing himself off. Now that the dog was off of him, he was actually finding the whole thing funny.

"Oh God. I'm so sorry."

Mark raised both of his hands, grinning. "It's okay. Most excitement I've had in a few months. He's got an interesting name."

"Oh yeah. I teach history, and I always loved Roman history. I named him Caligula because he's completely mental. As you can see, he doesn't get his full name unless he's been a _very naughty boy,"_ she finished, staring at the dog, which covered his nose with his front leg.

Mark laughed, quickly assessing the woman. He guessed her at mid-thirties, and by the tan line on her finger, she had recently gotten out of a marriage. She had chestnut coloured hair, and bright blue eyes. He could tell that she was more used to laughing than frowning, and from the shape her body was in, that she ran quite often.

"You're not from around here," he said.

"You can tell?" she asked, somewhat despairingly. "I've been here five years and still sound ridiculously East London."

Mark smiled. "Why'd you move here?"

"My husband, well, ex-husband now, his job transferred out here. So he uprooted my son and I from our lovely home in London and brought us out here. I don't mind it, but I like London better. And after we came to Bath...I should just shut up now. I'm Sarah, by the way. Sarah Noble."

Mark swore his heart stopped for a few moments. Sarah Noble. The name Alex had used to go undercover with. Apparently, that name was going to chase him around forever. He realised he had been staring entirely too long with his mouth open and made himself respond.

"Sorry. I'm Arthur Newman."

"You're not from around here," Sarah said.

Mark smiled. "I'm from London as well."

"Why'd you move to Bath then, Arthur?"

"Long story short, the government doesn't like it when you make mistakes. I was quietly pensioned off and they gave me a flat out here to get me out of their hair."

"What did you do? I mean, what was your position?"

Mark smiled and shook his head. "Classified."

Realisation dawned on the woman's face.

"But that's long behind me now. I'm enjoying it here, actually, mad dogs and all."

Sarah blushed. "I really am sorry about that. Will you let me take you out for a coffee? Or...it's gone five. What about a drink?"

"What about Caligula...er...Iggy? And your son?"

"My son's eighteen and at Uni. And we can drop off Iggy, if you don't mind."

"Not at all. I'm sorry, I didn't expect..."

"My son to be so old? Yeah, I know. Jack and I were married six months before he was born. Barely twenty and a son to raise to boot. Still, I wouldn't change it," she said as they walked out of the park. "What about you Arthur? Any kids?"

"Nope. Had one or two serious relationships, but nothing came out of them. My job scared everyone off. There was someone recently. She was the only one it didn't scare off, but she loved someone else."

"I'm sorry," she said. "If it's any consolation, that's what happened with me and Jack. He comes up to me one day, says he's in love with someone else; that he had been for years and had tried to deny it. He decided it wasn't fair on Ben and me and that we needed better."

"Ouch," Mark said.

"Still, I guess he was right. I was worrying myself to illness that something was wrong with me, with him, why nothing felt like it did. I feel much better than I did, and right before Ben moved out, I got Iggy here. Been trying to train him..."

"To no avail," Mark said snidely.

Sarah laughed. "You're right. Iggy's a stubborn little bugger."

"Maybe I could train him," Mark said. "I've trained a few friends' dogs in the past."

"If you want, feel free. I'm getting nowhere with him except by calling him Caligula."

Instantly, the dog's ears and tail drooped.

"Relax, Iggy," she said, which made the dog's ears perk up again.

"He really knows his name," Mark said, grinning. Sarah started walking up the pavement to her house.

"That's about the only thing. Don't even try with sit, stay, roll over, down, get off the nice man. He'll do anything my son says, go figure."

Mark laughed as she unlocked the door and Iggy ran inside. Sarah stopped, considering. "Do you just want to come in for a cup of tea? Or did you have your heart set on a pint?"

"Tea sounds lovely. I'm incredibly flexible as far as my drinks go. I even drink water."

"How _do_ you do that without fermenting it with something?" she asked sarcastically.

"It's difficult, but somehow I've been able to adjust."

Sarah laughed as she put the kettle on and started to get the tea ready.

"So what are your hobbies, then?"

"I like painting," he said.

"Is that why you had a notebook?"

"I brought it to sketch, but I hate sketching so I had given up and was about to go home when I was attacked by a mental Roman emperor."

She grinned. "Anything else that you like doing?"

"I've been thinking of taking up running, but I've never been able to figure out _why _anyone would want to run unless someone is chasing them."

"Because, if you don't run when someone isn't chasing you, how are you supposed to when there is? You'll be too out of shape to go more than a few meters, and then BAM! The man who's chasing you has overtaken you. Because, I bet they practiced their running as well," she said as the kettle started to whistle.

"Well, then I'll have to start running. Then when Iggy finds me in the park again, I can outrun him."

"Good luck with that. If you think that, you're more deserving of the 'mental' tag than him."

Mark laughed. Iggy, sensing that they were talking about him, came up and put his head on Mark's lap.

"Milk or sugar?" Sarah asked.

"Just milk, thanks," he replied, scratching the dog's head. "So, what are your hobbies?"

"Well, I love running, and I was thinking that Iggy would help me get out of bed and run in the mornings."

"Did he?"

"Five in the morning. He's at my bed with his leash."

"So he did!"

"Yes, but if it's not a weekday, he waits a couple hours. I tell him to go away and come back at seven on weekends. I swear, the only thing the damn dog can do is tell time. At seven on the dot, he's back in there with his lead hanging from his mouth. Same thing at four in the afternoon on weekends. On weekdays as soon as I get home, he grabs the lead."

"So you're not stupid," Mark murmured to the dog. "Just stubborn."

"Nah. He's stupid as well. Can't find his food bowl half the time."

"Aw, be nice to the poor mutt!"

"He knows I love him, poor thing. No matter what I say, isn't that right, Iggy?" she asked the dog, which started wagging his tail.

"Oh thank you," Mark said. "You didn't do the baby voice with him."

"I think that's unnecessary," she said. "It irritates me like none other when I hear others do it."

"Same. I mean, it irritates me when people put on a baby voice at any time, but with dogs, I just want to kick them in the face."

"Ooh. Cruel," she said. "Wait. The dog or the human?"

"The dog's done nothing to offend me."

Sarah laughed. "So, now, are you going to tell me about this woman who loved someone else? I told you about my failed marriage. I think we're well beyond what you're supposed to talk about when you first meet someone."

"I think you're right. And where to begin? She was a copper. On an undercover operation when I first met her."

"Ooh, you fell in love with an undercover detective?" Sarah asked, leaning in closer.

"Yes, but it went wrong. I helped her through it afterward."

"Through what?"

"Trauma. When I say it went wrong, it went about as wrong as anything can go without death."

Sarah was quiet, her face concerned.

"Because of how traumatised she was, she thought she hated the man she loved, and came to live with me. They weren't together. I half realised their feelings, but I ignored them. I helped her through the trauma, and I fell in love with her. I shouldn't have, but I did. Eventually, I realised what I had done. She went back to live with the man she loved. And I screwed up, and came here."

"What was her name?" Sarah asked.

"Her real name was Alex. You wouldn't believe her undercover name," Mark said, silently cursing himself. Surely some of this was supposed to be kept secret. But still, everyone involved in that case was now imprisoned or dead. Including himself.

"What was it?" she said, leaning forward, a grin on her face.

"You really won't. It was...Sarah Noble."

Sarah leaned back in shock, her mouth hanging open. "Is that why you went all weird when I said my name?"

Mark nodded. "But I knew her as Alex, not Sarah. And I'm not going to see her again anyway."

Sarah stared at him, trying to figure him out.

"There's another element playing in this story that you're not telling me," she said seriously, and Mark got the terrible feeling he was about to be booted from the house.

She continued. "But I'm just a random stranger you met an hour ago. You were with the government, and the government has secrets it won't let its people tell their husbands or wives, much less strangers." She smiled. "That's okay."

Mark breathed a sigh of relief.

"Now, you said you wanted to start running. Where's your flat? Iggy and I will be there no later than 730 tomorrow."

**to be continued**


	4. Chapter 3: Ben

**This chapter is sponsored by: An obsession with glass bananas, crying giraffes, the inability to count, and several point deductions.**

**Chapter 3: Ben**

**Late December 1984**

Mark sat next to Sarah on the couch, his arm around her shoulders. She was snuggled in next to him, her head resting comfortably on his chest. Ruining the romance of the moment, as ever, was Iggy, who was sprawled across both of their laps. However, Mark had to admit, the dog _was_ keeping his legs warm quite well.

Mark and Sarah had hardly spent a minute away from each other since they met. They had never spent the night together, but Mark already had clothes at her place and she, likewise. They would spend the evenings after running together, and they preferred it if neither smelled like sweat. However, their relationship was only that of the best of friends, and nothing further. He knew that she was scared of crossing the barrier, and he was likewise. None of his other relationships had worked out, and he was having such fun with Sarah, he didn't want to ruin it by pushing things any further before she was ready.

Sarah poked Iggy with her finger. "You need to move, dog. My legs have fallen asleep."

The dog didn't move, except to look at Sarah with woeful eyes.

"We haven't gotten to 'move' yet," Mark said laughingly. "He's having too much trouble with sit and stay."

"I told you he was stupid."

"Stubborn," he said.

"Stupid."

"Stubborn!"

"I think we know who's stubborn in the room. Iggy, who do you think?"

Iggy immediately sat up and licked Mark on the face, before lying back down across their laps.

"He agrees with me!" Sarah said gleefully, looking up at Mark's face.

Suddenly, Mark became aware of just how close their faces were. Mere inches separated their faces, their mouths. He stared into her eyes, unable to look away, wanting to draw closer, but too afraid to.

"Arthur..."

"Yes?"

She didn't say anything, staring at him, her eyes suddenly flicking down to his lips and back up to his eyes. Their faces drew closer, if that was possible, still not touching. He didn't hear the television that was still flickering in front of them.

Sarah put her hand on his face, her fingers lacing through it to the back of his head. Her hand started pushing his face forward, closing the mere centimetres in between them.

Suddenly the door slammed open. "Mum! I'm home!" a young male's voice called out.

Sarah pulled away from him instantly, as Iggy barked and jumped off the sofa, conveniently using Mark's groin to lunge off of.

"In here, honey!" Sarah called as Mark double over, unable to catch his breath.

"Down Iggy!" the man's voice commanded.

"Shit, are you okay?" Sarah asked, looking at him in concern.

Mark couldn't respond, finally able to gasp for some air, tears welling in his eyes.

"Hey, Mum," the man's voice said happily, still approaching the room. "I've missed you!"

"Ben! Honey! I thought you were coming tomorrow. I was supposed to meet you at the coach station!"

"I thought I'd surprise... Who the hell is this?"

"This is Arthur Newton. I've told you about him, Ben."

"I thought you were just running partners," Ben said, eyeing Mark untrustingly. "_Down, _Iggy," he said as the dog jumped up on him again. "Sit." Iggy immediately sat down, looking at Ben balefully, which just added insult to injury.

"What's happened to him?"

"Iggy used me as a springboard," Mark gasped, thankful that his voice wasn't three octaves too high.

"Really?" Ben asked, smiling. "Good dog." Iggy barked and wagged his tail.

"I should go," Mark said, trying to ignore the waves of nausea that were radiating from his stomach.

"Nonsense," Sarah said. "Ben, sit down. I'll get us all some tea."

"Think you're going to be able to run in the morning?" Ben asked as soon as his mother had left the room.

"I'll let Iggy do the same to you and we'll see what you think," Mark said through gritted teeth, aware that he wasn't making the best first impression. He had recovered enough to be able to sit up somewhat normally, and started his normal assessment on Ben.

The boy was just reaching manhood, and still had all the cockiness of youth hanging about him. His hair was straw-coloured and his blue eyes matched his mum's. The rings around his eyes told of late nights spent drinking and early mornings of classes and hangovers. He was lanky, but Mark could tell that he was muscular underneath the giant jumper he was wearing. Ben had fixed Mark with a stare that told him that he wasn't going to allow Mark anywhere near his mother, one that he had been only too used to getting in the past year.

_Another Gene,_ he thought to himself.

"So Arthur," the boy said, as if he was bored. "You're a bit more than my Mum's running partner, eh? Wedding ring's barely off her finger and you're weaselling your way in."

Mark shook his head. "It's not like that. "We're friends. That's it."

"Then what are you doing over here?"

"I moved here from London earlier this year. You went to Uni. We keep each other company."

"She has other friends," Ben said sneeringly.

"So she does," Mark said calmly.

"Well, then why doesn't she ring one of them up?"

"Because they all have children and families of their own."

"Don't you?"

Mark shook his head. "That field never worked out for me."

"Probably because you're such a tosser."

"Oi," Sarah said as she walked into the room, precariously holding three mugs of tea. "You may be eighteen but I still don't want that language in my house. Really, Ben. If I didn't have the tea, I'd slap you. I taught you better than that."

Ben glared at Mark. "I don't understand why he's here. He's just your running partner."

"Let's discuss this outside," Sarah said sharply, motioning for Ben to get up. Ben sighed, picking up his tea and following his mum out of the room. Mark and Iggy stared at each other for a moment before Iggy hid his face underneath his paw.

"I think you're right, boy," Mark murmured. He tried not to hear the muffled conversation coming from the hall, but found himself unable to resist.

"Yes he's my running partner," Sarah said angrily. "But he's also one of my best friends!"

"All he wants is to shag you, Mum!"

"Benjamin Robert!"

"What? It's true! Didn't he tell you, he's had no luck with women? He doesn't want to settle down, Mum! He just wants you to give into his charms and then he'll move on!"

"And you know this because you're so world wise," Sarah said sarcastically.

"I know this because I'm right! You'll trust him, and then he'll run off with the little twenty year old bit on the side that he's keeping secret from you!"

"Who are you talking about now, Ben? Arthur, or your father?"

There was a long silence before Ben spoke again. "I don't want to see you like you were when Dad left us."

"Oh sweetheart. Not every man is your father, and Arthur is much different than your dad. Besides, I'm older now. I see things a lot differently than when I married your dad."

"I don't trust him," Ben said darkly.

"Just give him a chance," Sarah said. "And if you're so worried, I've been running with him since August, and he's not tried to make a move."

"Sure he's not a poofter?"

"He really is Gene Hunt," Mark said to Iggy. "A skinnier, younger version." Iggy barked in response, wagging his tail and walking over to put his head on Mark's lap.

"He's coming over for Christmas dinner too," he heard Sarah say. "Don't alienate him, Ben. Otherwise I'll get you up at five tomorrow morning to take Iggy for a walk. Even though it's a weekend."

"Evil," Ben said.

"I know." Mark could hear the smile in Sarah's voice.

"I hope you don't expect me to get a present for him."

"Of course not. Now, can you stop acting like a five-year old?" He couldn't hear Ben's response, but a moment later, they were both walking into the room, Ben wearing a false smile on his face.

"I'm ever so sorry I treated you like that, Arthur," he said in a ridiculously posh voice, which Mark realised was supposed to be a pastiche of his accent. "Will you _ever _forgive me?"

"Ben," his mother said warningly.

"Was that supposed to be me?" Mark asked, unsmiling.

"Who did you think it'd be? Zippy?"

"I thought you were going more for the Queen than Zippy."

Ben opened his mouth to say something, but his eyes flicked to Sarah and he appeared to think better of it. He pushed his mouth up into a pout for a moment.

_Oh god. Gene Hunt's in Bath as well as London. _

"So, Arthur, what's your story?" Ben asked. "How did you end up in this glorious paradise? Via a great many private education places, I suspect."

"My dad was an MP," Mark said. "He was assassinated when I was two. His colleagues set up a trust fund for my mum and I so we could have a decent living. One of his mates in Parliament put me through school and Uni. Yes, I was privileged, but at the cost of my father. Right after Uni, I got my job in the government, somewhat with the help of my dad's friend. But because I knew that I owed this man, I was straight A's throughout school. As much as he helped me get my job, I earned it. For that reason I was a bit of a loner throughout school. I spent all my time studying. My mum and I had a row and now we're estranged, have been for years. I moved here to this 'paradise' as you call it, because I screwed up at my job and they wanted me out."

"Jesus," Ben said.

"After my dad died, my Mum took her maiden name again. It was difficult with press always coming around."

This part was a bald faced lie, but if Ben decided to look up the MP that was assassinated in '49, he'd be curious as to why the surname was Evans instead of Newton. Mark had already seen papers of that day, had discussed it with his mother and knew that his name was never revealed to the press. So he knew that if Ben looked it up, the newspaper would only mention the two-year-old son, not Mark Evans, Stephen Evan's son.

"I didn't know that, Arthur," Sarah said softly.

"I don't talk about it much. I don't really my father, just the ramifications of his death."

"What did you and your mum row about?"

"My job, as it were." The fact that he was estranged from her was true. But it wasn't his job that estranged them. He hadn't talked to his mum in years, and hadn't bothered to ring her when he had 'died.' He had told Danny he wanted complete separation from everyone, so his mum had gotten the dreaded knock on the door as well. Mark knew it was cruel, but just couldn't bring himself to see her again. Not after what she'd done.

They sat in tense silence for several minutes. "I think I've killed the mood," Mark said lightly, which made Ben and Sarah laugh.

As the night wore on, Ben seemed to relax more around Mark, glaring less and his responses got less hostile. Finally, after two hours, Mark decided it was time to go home. Sarah walked him to the door, leaving Ben to clean up the mugs of tea.

"I'm sorry about how he treated you, Arthur," she said.

Mark shook his head. "Don't worry about it. He just felt threatened. Something about my dashing good looks and debonair charm seems to threaten men."

Sarah laughed loudly, and he pretended to be hurt. "You don't agree?"

"Oh no. I think you're very debonair. It's just the 'dashing good looks' part that I've got a problem with."

"It's the nose, isn't it?"

Sarah gave a soft smile and shook her head. "No. If anything, I'd put an _extremely _before it."

He stared at her a moment and she kissed him on the cheek. "Goodnight, Arthur. I'll see you in the morning."

"Night," he managed, walking out the door, dumbfounded. He walked home in silence, his cheek burning the whole way there.


	5. Chapter 4: Christmas

**Chapter 4: Christmas**

At seven thirty on the dot, a dog started barking outside Mark's flat. He looked out the window to see Sarah and Iggy standing outside, and was surprised to see Ben with them. The past couple days, according to Sarah, Ben had been sleeping in and hadn't been out of bed before at least noon. Mark ran down the stairs and met the small group.

"Sarah, Iggy," he said, nodding his head. "How are you Ben?"

"Bit tired, actually. Mum _insisted_ that I run today. She said I'd feel better."

"Exercise releases endorphins. Endorphins make you happy," Mark said cheerfully.

"Ugh, Mum. He's as much of a morning person as you are. Morning people are disgusting."

"I'm only a morning person if I'm not hungover," Mark said quietly to Ben with a wink.

Ben stared at him, trying to determine whether or not he was taking the piss or not.

"C'mon guys. I've Christmas dinner to make. We need to go now."

Hearing those words, Iggy immediately started pulling at his lead. Sarah started running behind him, and Ben and Mark stared at each other.

"After you," Ben said snidely.

Mark gave a sarcastic smile and started running, catching up to Sarah. "I'm not coming straight over after our run," he said, while he still had breath. "I've got to grab some things before I do."

"You're welcome over as soon as you are ready," she said, trying to smile, but it ended up as more of a grimace than anything. Mark nodded, starting to concentrate on his breathing and not on the fact that he felt like he was going to die. They changed the route slightly so that they passed back by Mark's flat again, and said goodbye. Ben looked rather the worse for wear, extremely red faced and slightly green at the same time. He heard Ben ask to walk the rest of the way home.

Mark smiled as he entered his flat, going straight to the bathroom for a shower. He turned the water on as hot as he could stand, loving the feel of the heat warming him and at the same time the water washing away the sweat. Running outside in the winter was probably a stupid idea, but Sarah loved doing it, and so did he. Besides, Sarah had fallen ill for a few days earlier in the month, and she had ended ringing him to run with Iggy because the dog kept dropping the lead on her face. He had done so, and ended up spending the day with her, even though she felt like shit. He had made her eat soup, even though she wasn't hungry, and had nearly force fed her fluids at one point.

Of course, this had resulted in him getting the lurgy a few days later, but she had done the same thing for him when she wasn't teaching. There was something special about their friendship; he had known that from the start. There was no pressure to be anyone but himself, and he didn't have to be the constant pillar of support like he had been with Alex. For him, it felt like a load had been taken off, and he was finally thinking that faking his own death had been worth it to meet this wonderful woman and her mental dog.

He got out of the shower and dried himself, standing in front of the sink to shave. He had been debating about growing a beard, but he had yet to get out of the habit of shaving every morning for work. However, as he smeared shaving foam across his face, he stopped, considering. Well, it was close enough to a new year, wasn't it?

Mark put his razor away and washed the foam off of his face, stepping out of the bathroom and into his bedroom. The flat was a decent size, but he had no separate room for his paintings, so at the moment, they were stacking up in the hardly used kitchen.

He opened his wardrobe and put on a light blue button up shirt and a pair of jeans. He had half-considered wearing a Santa hat, something that he thought Sarah would find amusing and Ben, irritating, but eventually decided against it.

He finished getting ready and grabbed the presents he had wrapped only the night before. When he was ill, he was terrified that Sarah would see hers, so he had leapt out of bed when she told him she was coming over. He had run to the kitchen, grabbed her present and stuffed it under the bed so that she wouldn't find it. For his efforts, he spent the next twenty minutes sitting next to the toilet.

He was excited though, because he thought it truly would be a surprise for her to see. He had even got something for Iggy and Ben.

Mark walked to Sarah's house, which wasn't too far from his flat. He rang the bell; even though they had long exchanged keys, he felt it was best with Ben there to ring the bell. Sarah answered the door, dressed in a soft red jumper and black leggings. She was barefoot.

Iggy came bounding up behind her, jumping all over Mark in a frenzy as though he hadn't seen him for weeks.

"Down Iggy!" he commanded to no avail.

"I think your luck with dogs is over," Sarah said teasingly.

"I've never met one this stubborn," Mark said.

"I've already told you, it's not stubbornness. It's stupidity."

"I know, but I want to believe the best in him."

Sarah laughed and he shrugged off his coat. "I've got some presents. I'll put them under the tree and help out in the kitchen?"

"Don't put them under the tree. Put them up where the rest of the gifts are. Otherwise Iggy will tear the presents. At least he did mine. He leaves Ben's alone."

"What is it about Ben?" Mark asked.

"My son must be a dog whisperer or something."

Mark laughed, going into where the tree was, and saw bookcase sitting next to it. On the upper shelf and the top of the bookcase were several neatly wrapped gifts. Iggy had followed him into the room and watched him closely, his tail thumping.

"One of these _is _for you, if you're wondering," Mark said. "But you're not going to get this until later."

Iggy's ears and tail drooped. Mark just shook his head, going into the kitchen, where Sarah was mixing ingredients together for pies. She had warned them that they stopped doing the traditional Christmas a few years before, after Jack had walked out. Instead, they were having steak and kidney pies, mashed potatoes, Yorkshire pudding, carrots and peas, and for dessert, a different country's dish. She made two every year, and this year, it was Russia and Belgium. For Russia, she was having him mix grated chocolate with vodka, in a recipe surprisingly called 'Chocolate Vodka.' For Belgium, she was making Christmas bars made of almonds and butter.

"Where's Ben?" Mark asked.

"He was going to go back up to sleep, but one of his mates rang and asked if he wanted to go to the pub for a few hours, so he did."

Mark nodded in acknowledgement, concentrating on grating chocolate.

"I'm really sorry for how he treated you the other night." Since Ben had come home, they had not spent any time together besides their runs, and those weren't the best to have a normal conversation.

Mark shook his head. "It's not that big of a deal. He's just being protective of you."

Sarah smiled sadly. "He watched me cry at one point. I couldn't control it, and..."

"Sometimes that happens," Mark said softly.

"He won't even speak to his dad now. Said that he should have thought before screwing over his family. He got so angry after his dad left, and there's nothing I can do about it."

"His dad took away sixteen years worth of trust. For you and for him. He's no idea what to do right now. He doesn't want you to get close to another man because he doesn't want to see you hurt again."

Sarah turned to look at him, and he could see tears swimming in her eyes. "But what if... what if I want to be close to someone?"

Mark set down the chocolate and the grater. "Then you do it. Ben loves you too much to let you go. If you stay single the rest of your life, then he won't trust any man near you. If you start giving it a go, it may be easier."

"I don't want to end up like you and your mother though."

"Don't deny yourself happiness," Mark said. "He's growing up. He may be very mature about the whole thing. And besides, if you find the right man, he's not going to run off."

"I was so young the first time around," Sarah said. "The only reason I married his dad was because I was pregnant with him."

"You made a mistake. All people do."

"It cost me sixteen years of my life."

"Do you really regret having Ben?"

Sarah looked at him a moment before shaking her head.

"Then those sixteen years weren't wasted." Suddenly, her arms were around his waist, her head pressed into his chest.

"Thank you," she whispered. Mark said nothing, putting his arms around her and pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

She pulled her head away from his chest and looked up at him. "Arthur?"

"Yeah?"

"You know that the someone I was talking about...it was you, right?"

Mark gave a soft smile. "I guessed."

"I wanted to tell you, but I was nervous," she murmured.

"Same. I didn't want to do anything before you were ready."

"I think the other night showed that I was," she said. "Why did you hesitate?"

"I was scared," he admitted quietly. "That you'd regret it."

"You were wrong," she breathed. "I've been wanting to kiss you since the day we met, but that's not exactly British, is it?"

Mark smiled. "Not in the slightest. But now..."

They stared into each other's eyes for a moment, before Mark moved his face hesitantly forward. A moment later, their lips met. He moved his hand from her waist up to the back of her head. She moved her arms around his neck, pulling him closer to her.

"So he's not a poofter then," said a male voice, torn between amusement and anger.

Sarah pulled away from Mark. "Ben!" she said.

Ben looked from Mark to Sarah with narrowed eyes. "I thought you said there was nothing going on between you two."

Sarah, who was quite flushed, responded. "There...er...wasn't. Until about five minutes before you walked in."

He looked between the two again. "Right...Well, Mum. Simon says hi. Where's Iggy?"

"Last I saw, he was staring at the presents," Mark said.

A look of concern passed over Ben's face before he rushed out of the room, calling Iggy's name.

They both started laughing, dispelling the tension in the atmosphere.

"I wasn't expecting that!" Sarah said.

"I'm always right," Mark said, smiling proudly. "It's a curse, but I deal, me."

Sarah threw a fistful of flour at him.

"Is that how you're going to play it?" he asked.

In response, she threw another two fistfuls of flour at him.

Mark stood stock still, looked at her, and nodded. "Alrighty, then."

He reached his hand into the flour canister and threw a fistful at her. She shrieked, responding by throwing a handful of sweets.

"Ow! Those hurt!"

"You shouldn't have touched my flour then!"

"You shouldn't have thrown it at me in the first place!"

Sarah just laughed, tossing icing sugar at him.

"Why do you even have out icing sugar? What the hell do you need that for?"

"Throwing it on you, apparently."

She grinned as Mark glared playfully at her. He heard the clicking of nails on tiles as Iggy came into the kitchen, promptly falling over in the mess on the floor and causing a white cloud to form momentarily.

"Annual Christmas flour throwing?" Ben asked her.

"Getting Mark into the traditions. It's not Christmas dinner unless you're covered in some form of powdery baking product."

"She didn't tell me it was a tradition," Mark said, trying to stay serious, but failing miserably. Damn, where was all his MI-5 training when he actually needed it?

"She stocks up on flour and icing sugar the week before. When we first did this two years ago, she nearly bought out the supply at Tesco."

Mark just looked from mother to son. "Maybe it's not your dog that's the mental one," he said slowly.

Sarah and Ben just laughed as Ben went to the cupboard to reveal a shelf stacked with icing sugar and flour. "Usually it's flour against sugar," he said.

"Don't worry," Sarah said. "I thought of Arthur. Look behind the icing sugar."

As he pulled out the sugar, Mark saw several boxes of bicarbonate of soda.

"We all get the same amount," Sarah said, throwing towels over the counter. "Usually we do a kilogram of each, but this year, I thought it'd be more fun to get even messier. So we're doing three kilos of each.

Mark just stared at the two in disbelief. Ben was grinning wildly, grabbing large bowls from the cupboards and pouring in the ingredients.

"When we did this two years ago, we didn't put anything over the food, and ended up having frozen dinners because all the food was ruined," Ben said. "We timed it just right last year and finished as the pies did."

Mark frowned, still unable to fully comprehend what was going on. A bowl of bicarb was sat in front of him and Sarah and Ben faced each other with identical smiles. Before he could process it, Mark was hit in the face with flour and icing sugar at the same time. He stood, shocked for a moment before responding by putting his hand in the bowl and throwing a handful at Ben.

This continued until all the ingredients were gone from the bowls, at which point, they started to take flour and icing sugar off the floor to throw at each other. Iggy came in halfway through and started barking and wagging his enormous tail, joining in all the fun by rolling around in the mess on the floor. By the time the timer buzzed, they were all completely white and laughing their heads off.

They ate in the kitchen, throwing down towels on the chairs to eat. "It'll be presents after we shower," Sarah said as they finished. "You're the guest, Arthur, you can go first. Ben'll go next and then I'll go last. I've got to clean up the kitchen."

"I'll help you out, Mum," Ben said as she got up, looking at Mark a moment before he did as well. Mark noticed that while the look wasn't filled with love, it wasn't the pure contempt from a few days earlier. He went upstairs to take the second shower for that day, changing into a pair of jeans and a red button up shirt he had left there. He went downstairs and joined Sarah in the cleaning of the kitchen, something that was difficult, as Iggy kept coming in and rolling in the mixture before standing up and shaking himself off. Finally, Sarah blocked the doorway as Ben came down the stairs.

"We'll finish up, Mum," Ben said. Sarah nodded and went upstairs.

They worked in silence for a few minutes before Ben spoke. "I'm going to give you a chance," he said. "I still don't exactly trust you, but Mum does. This is the first time I've seen her happy since Dad left. If you ruin this though, just know that I will find you. I'm not letting Mum get hurt like that again."

"I don't want anything like that to happen between us," Mark said softly. "I just want to spend time with her."

Ben narrowed his eyes, considering. "I may be in London, but she'll still tell me everything. And I'm sure Iggy would love to use your bollocks as a springboard again."

Mark winced and Ben smirked.

"Since we've got that out of the way, why don't we get this into the rubbish?"

Mark nodded. They had just finished when Sarah came down wearing an outfit much the same as before, only this time, it was a purple jumper.

"Presents?" she said, walking to the room with the tree. She sorted them into three piles, which Iggy sniffed eagerly until Ben had told him to 'lay.'

"Iggy's got a present too," Sarah said, grinning.

"I found it, and I couldn't not get it for him."

Sarah opened the present and laughed. It was a laurel wreath. "Ben, put this on him," she said. Ben, wearing a grin as wide as hers, did. Iggy immediately tried to take it off but with Ben's command of 'stop,' stopped and looked up at the three with morose eyes.

"Ben, you go first," she said. Ben opened up a jumper and groaned.

"_Really, Mum?"_

"Standard gift!" she said, grinning.

He went through all his presents, stopping in amazement at the last one, the one from Mark.

"What is it Ben?"

"He got me Arsenal tickets for the rest of the season!" Ben exclaimed.

"Don't think I'm trying to buy your approval," Mark said. "I just thought you'd like them. Gave you two for each, so you can take a mate as well."

Ben stared at Mark in something close to adoration.

It was Sarah's turn to open her presents. She three, one from Mark, and two from Ben. Ben had gotten her a necklace, and to Mark's overwhelming surprise, a glass banana.

"It comes from when he was six and he insisted that I would want a fake apple for my Christmas present," she said.

"Now she's got a fake fruit basket, " Ben said, "and we're trying to see how long we can go before we run out of fake fruits to get."

Mark just nodded, thinking that maybe it was a bit too early to join their Christmas. Maybe he should have waited a few years, until they really knew each other. Still, he had to admit that he was having the most fun on Christmas than he had had in years. Last year, he and Alex had done nothing, and he ended up getting called in for the next thirty-four hours. When he was a child, he had been forced to stiff dinners at his grandparent's house.

Sarah started unwrapping her last present, excited. "It's one of your paintings, isn't it Arthur?"

Mark simply nodded. Sarah finished unwrapping it and turned it over, laughing. The painting was of the chest and head of Iggy, Sarah standing in the background waving angrily. Iggy was wearing a laurel wreath on his head.

"It's the day we first met, from my vantage point," Mark said.

Sarah doubled over in laughter, and Ben looked confused. Eventually, she recovered enough to tell Ben the story. He started laughing and leaned over to Iggy, whispering in the dog's ear. Mark figured it was along the lines of 'good dog.'

"Your turn, Mark," Sarah said. He was surprised to see two gifts in front of him. The first was neatly wrapped, which he figured was Sarah's. He opened it to see a new paint set, with twelve different size brushes and a new palette. Mark opened his mouth in amazement.

"Maybe when summer comes, you can start selling your art to the tourists," she said, winking.

"Fair idea," Mark said. "Thank you."

He turned to the other present, one that looked hastily wrapped. It suspiciously had the shape of a beer bottle. Mark unwrapped it, and sure enough, a bottle of Newcastle Brown Ale was sitting in front of him. He smiled at Ben, knowing it was a peace offering of sorts. Ben gave a half smile back. At that moment, Mark felt reasonably confident that he and Ben would be much closer come Christmas next year.


	6. Chapter 5: London

**This chapter...I just...I couldn't help it... *runs away***

**Chapter 5: London**

**September, 1985**

Mark lay on the blanket in Hyde Park, watching lazily as Sarah played with Iggy. After several months, Iggy had finally responded to being trained, and was now much calmer than he had been around Christmas, although he still loved chasing squirrels and tackling Mark. Because he was calmer, they were able to take him with them when they planned their first holiday as a couple. Mark had been itching to get back to London, even for a few days, and Sarah had wholeheartedly agreed.

"I love this place," Sarah said, flopping on the ground next to him. Iggy approached soon after her, licking Mark once and lying down. "You just forget how beautiful it is."

"You're right," Mark said. "I never got to appreciate it like I do now that I'm a tourist. Although I don't feel like a tourist."

"You feel like you're at home."

Mark nodded.

"I feel like that too."

"Maybe one day we can come back here permanently. Spend every day relaxing in Hyde Park," Mark said.

"Yes, but then where would we get the funds to support ourselves?"

"The streets can become our home," he said jokingly. "We'll wander wherever the wind takes us."

"Maybe you, but I don't care for wind," she responded.

Mark gave a long, fake sigh. "You make everything difficult, don't you?"

Sarah raised an eyebrow. "That's what I'm supposed to do, isn't it?"

Mark nodded vigorously, and Sarah pretended to be offended. She playfully slapped him.

"Ow!" Mark yelled loudly. "That almost hurt!"

Sarah burst into laughter. Mark, however, had frozen still. Iggy whimpered beside him, licking his hand. Sarah frowned. "What's going on? You've just gone all pale."

"It's..._her,_" he whispered. Sarah followed his gaze.

"Is that...?"

"Alex Drake," he murmured. "Jesus Christ."

"Do you want to go say hello?" Sarah asked, all of a sudden sounding unsure.

Mark shook his head and smiled at her. "No. It'd be strange for both of us. Besides, look how happy she is."

They both looked at Alex, who was hand in hand with Gene. She was laughing, and he saw that Gene was offering a rare smile. She had put on weight in the past year, and no longer looked gaunt. Her hair had grown down to her shoulders, and she had grown a fringe, most likely to cover a scar from the time spent with Walter Green/Will Grey.

Mark looked down at her left hand and nudged Sarah, smiling. "They're engaged," he said. "Good for you, Gene Hunt."

Sarah stared at Alex a moment before turning to Mark, shock covering her face. "Arthur, what happened to her finger?"

Mark looked down.

"Is this one of those things you can't tell me?"

Mark bit his lip thinking. "I don't want to have secrets from you, Sarah. But I don't want to lose you either."

"I think I can handle it," she said softly. Mark noticed that she wasn't angry or jealous, just unsure now of where she stood.

"I'll start at the beginning. I'm guessing you know what my profession was before I left London."

"You were a Spook, weren't you?"

Mark nodded. "And when I said I messed up a case, I mean I really screwed it up. I nearly died because of it. It was her case, actually."

"What did you do?"

"She was being held hostage by a man with IRA connections. I told her who I was outright because I couldn't stand her hating me. They heard me tell her and tried to kill us both. After she got out of hospital, she came to live with me, even though she was traumatised. I had her start painting as a form of therapy. We got really close, entered a relationship for a few months. Then one of the men from where she was kept hostage kidnapped her again. Well, I say kidnapped. She went because he threatened to kill Gene and me. After we found out where she was, we raided the house. Guns went crazy, and I was shot in the chest. I thought I was a goner, so when I woke up in hospital, I was quite surprised. I had been thinking about leaving the service for several months before, and that made the decision for me. I told my boss to get me out. I knew I had to be away from Alex. She needed to be with Gene. I was going to disappear from her life anyway. When I told my boss to get me out, he did the only thing he could. He gave me a new identity, a new place to live, and a government pension."

"A new identity?" Sarah asked.

"My name wasn't Arthur Newton," he said softly, looking directly in her eyes. "My name was Mark Evans, but last February, he died after being shot in the chest. Most of what I've told you is true, though," he continued pleadingly. "My dad really was an MP. His name was Stephen Evans and he was assassinated. My mum didn't change her surname back though. We really were estranged at the time that I was shot. She doesn't know that I'm alive."

Sarah stared at him, like she was looking at him for the very first time. "I don't really know what I should say back to this," she said. "What do I even call you?"

Mark smiled sadly. "Arthur," he murmured. "That's my name. Mark Evans died. Sarah, I've been as honest with you as I could for how much I knew you. But now I know I can trust you with this. I've wanted to tell you for quite some time, but I didn't want you to run off."

Sarah stared at him. "You never told me what happened to her finger."

Mark stared at the couple a few hundred metres away. "They tortured her for information."

"You're not a Spook anymore?"

"As far as everyone but my boss and a few of his superiors know, I died of a haemorrhage the night of the surgery."

"And Alex?"

"She went to my funeral. She thinks I'm dead. We've both moved on. I don't love her, Sarah. I love you."

"I'm...I'm going to take Iggy for a run for a few minutes. I just need to think."

Iggy, sensing there was something serious going on, nuzzled Mark's hand. Mark nodded sorrowfully as Sarah grabbed the lead.

"C'mon boy," she murmured.

Mark stared at the couple that was standing only a few metres away now. He lay down against the ground, covering his face, but leaving a peephole that he could look through.

"...Don't understand why you want me in a bloody morning suit," Gene was complaining.

"Because you'll look lovely in it," Alex responded.

"But we're not even doing a proper wedding!"

"You know what they say though," she said.

"I don't know who _'they'_ are," Gene growled.

"Women."

"Oh, I know what they say. About what you said they first day we met."

"I was unconscious for half of the first day we met."

He could hear the grin in Gene's voice as he responded. "Exactly. They say my name and are rendered speechless. Now, if only we could find a way to get you to shut up again...Ow!"

Mark was certain that Alex had swatted him on the shoulder. He saw Sarah coming back with Iggy running slowly, a look of ultimate concentration on her face, one that he recognised from when she was thinking extremely hard.

_Please, get out of here before Iggy decides to attack me. Or, please let Iggy attack Gene, just for the hell of it. _

Suddenly, Mark heard Sarah yell 'IGGY NO!'

Mark pulled his arm down just enough to see a giant black blur jump on Gene. Mark was trying his hardest not to laugh as Gene started protesting indignantly. He could see Alex doubled over in laughter, and Sarah looking quite concerned as she ran up to Gene and Alex.

_Good dog, _Mark thought, wishing he had a camera.

"Caligula!" Sarah said. Immediately, the dog's ears and tail drooped and he got off Gene mournfully. Sarah grabbed the lead that had been pulled out of her hands.

"I'm really sorry," Sarah said, positioning herself so that she would be facing Mark instead of Gene and Alex. Gene was getting off the ground, glowering, and Alex looked like she was about to burst into tears from laughing so hard.

"He won't listen to me, he only listens to my boyfriend, Arthur, who's on the other side of the park, and my son, who's in college."

_I'm still her boyfriend?_ Mark thought.

"He found a squirrel, started chasing it and found you instead."

Gene glared at her, even as Alex was grinning. "It's okay," she said. "Gene's not injured. And I've got licence to mock him for the rest of my life now."

Gene glared at Alex and then at Iggy, who hid his face underneath his paw. Suddenly, Iggy looked towards Mark and started pulling on his lead furiously. Gene and Alex looked over, but Mark had covered his face with both of his arms, pretending to be asleep. When they looked away, Mark glared at the dog, which cocked his head. Mark waved his fingers in a no gesture, and Iggy sat down, whimpering mournfully. He covered his face just as Gene and Alex looked back over. He was certain that with his face covered, they couldn't recognise him. The running meant he was much leaner than he had been as Mark Evans, and the bottom of his face was covered by a beard. His hair was also longer; he actually needed it cut fairly badly at the moment. He peeked through the gap in his arms to look at what was going on.

"I'm really sorry," Sarah said. "He did this to Arthur as well. That's actually how we met; I offered to buy him a drink afterward. I would offer now, but Arthur would wonder where I've gone."

"That's okay," Alex replied kindly. "Thank you though. You've just made my year. I'm Alex Drake, this is my fiancé, Gene Hunt. I'd like to buy you a drink just for having that happen. Maybe we could meet up tonight?"

Mark could tell by Gene's whole body stance that he was inwardly screaming 'no.'

"I'm afraid that won't be possible," Sarah said sweetly. "We're heading back to Bath tomorrow and need to pack up."

"What a shame," Alex said, while Gene relaxed with relief. "Well, thank you again..." She left the sentence hanging, waiting for a name.

_Oh, God, no, _Mark thought.

"Sarah," Sarah said innocently. "Sarah Noble."

Alex stiffened, the blood disappearing from her face and Gene threw his arm protectively over her. Sarah stiffened as well, realising what she had said.

"Nice to meet you." Gene's voice was almost deadly. He pulled Alex to him and Sarah took off at a run, motioning to Mark that she was going to do another lap.

"You okay, Bolly?" Gene asked.

Alex shook her head. "Yeah. Just a shock. God. Of all names...But that's why we picked it. It was common."

"I know. Jesus, now I half expect that Evans is that homeless bloke sleeping by the tree."

Alex gave a half laugh. "Well you know that that is one thing that _is _impossible. People don't come back from the dead."

Gene nodded as they walked off. "I know."

A few minutes after they walked away, Sarah came back, Iggy trotting happily beside her. Sarah sat down next to Mark, staring at the spot that Gene and Alex had stood only minutes earlier.

"Well that was odd."

"Hang on a moment," Mark said, turning to Iggy. "Good boy," he said scratching the dog's ears.

"I can't believe you condoned that! That was one of the most awkward conversations I've ever been in! And then the end...shit!"

"She recovered," Mark said softly. "It just surprised her. They talked a few more moments before you came back. Gene half expected the 'sleeping homeless bloke' to be me, as well."

"Good job you covered your face then."

They relaxed into silence for a moment before Sarah spoke again.

"Arthur?"

"Yeah?"

"You know that hearing the person you love was actually someone else is quite a shock, right?"

Mark nodded.

"But, you've been as truthful with me as you could. And I said the first day we met that I understood the government had its secrets. This was just one of them. I do want Ben to know though. It can wait, but eventually, you have to tell him."

Mark nodded. "I expected no less."

Sarah smiled at him, kissing him. "Good. Now let's get out of here before Iggy jumps on someone else from your past."


	7. Chapter 6: Talking

**Chapter 6: Talking**

**Christmas Eve, 1985**

Ben stared at Mark, his eyes narrowed. "You're joking me, right?"

Mark shook his head. "It's all true."

"Why did you tell me?"

"Your mum wanted me to, and I wanted you to know everything."

"But why did you want me to know?" Ben stressed.

Mark took a deep breath in. "Tomorrow, I'm going to ask your mother to marry me. It's the one year anniversary of when we got together. And, well, I wanted your permission before I asked her."

Ben stared at him. "I'm not her father," he said softly, almost deadly.

"No," Mark agreed. "But you're her son. Your opinion matters to her. And I don't want to pressure her to choose between your opinion of me and well...me."

Ben stared at him, scrutinising him with his bright blue eyes. "Mum knows that you were a spook?"

Mark nodded. "I told her in London."

"Then why does she still call you Arthur?"

"Because Mark Evans is dead. I have his back story, but I am not him. As far as the government is concerned, I was a clerk who made one too many errors and they're paying me directly for unemployment."

"And if I said no, what would you do?" Ben challenged.

"I honestly don't know," Mark answered truthfully. "I love your mother, Ben. I want to do all I can to make her happy. And I know that she's not afraid of a second marriage."

Ben leaned back in his chair, staring at the Mark. "You're not going to walk off with some trollop, are you?"

Mark shook his head. "I couldn't do that, no matter how horrid the relationship was."

"What about that woman?" Ben asked, nodding to the painting of Alex Mark had completed a few months earlier.

Mark smiled softly, shaking his head. "We're never going to see each other again, Ben. But even if we did, she wouldn't be as important to me as your mother is. Back when I knew Alex, I thought that she was the most beautiful woman in the world. After I got her to talk to me, to start functioning, I loved her for her personality, the inner core of strength. But as I spent more time with her, I realised that I had mistaken the shock of meeting her and the protectiveness I felt about her for love. When Iggy jumped on me that day in the park, I liked your Mum's personality. I thought she was very pretty. But then as the months went on, I realised that I was fool for thinking that I was in love with Alex, because the way I felt about her doesn't even compare to how I feel about your mother. She's the most beautiful woman I've ever met. I look forward to seeing her, even if it means we're going for a run and not talking. I love just sitting next to her on the sofa."

The room fell silent and Ben stared at Mark for several moments, scrutinising him.

"If you hurt her, you know I will find you and hurt you."

"You're saying yes?"

"Listen, Arthur. When you first appeared on the scene, I hated you. I thought you were just after Mum to shag her. I thought you'd turn out just like dad. That you'd be out of her life within a month. But you wouldn't go away. Every time Mum talked about you, she sounded really happy. She pretty much acted like the sun shone out of your arse. And now you're talking about her the same way. Yes, I give you permission to ask her. But if you hurt her, I swear to God, Mark Evans will be dead for real this time."

Mark swallowed. "Duly noted."

"Also, so you know, I don't hate you anymore. I think you might actually be a good man."

"Is that you speaking or the hope for more Arsenal tickets?"

Ben grinned. "You already got me those for my birthday. What are you going to do, buy out the entire stadium?"

_Probably could,_ Mark thought. No one knew it from his meagre existence, but he was actually extremely rich. He could trace back his family to William the Conqueror, and his great something grandfather had dined with Charles II. Hell, some of the money in his accounts probably existed from the sixteen hundreds. Even if Danny hadn't halved the sums of money Mark had left for Alex and Gene, Mark still could have lived comfortably for most of his life. He had grown up hating money, however, mostly because of the hold that it had over him from the people that owned it. Therefore, he had little to do with it, just getting basics of living and the occasional Arsenal season tickets.

"Well, there's loads of stuff I could get you," Mark said, grinning teasingly. "A bottle of Newcastle Brown Ale, for example."

Ben flushed. "I told Mum I wasn't getting you anything and then you came out with that sob story about your childhood and I felt bad."

"Not a sob story if there was no sobbing," Mark said wryly.

"Mum was. Later on. Seriously. You should've heard her. 'Oh Ben! That poor man! And you treat him so awful!'"

"She didn't, did she?"

Ben nodded. "God, I was concerned she was going to flood the entire bloody house. She cried for an hour. You'd think it was her dad that had died."

"Sorry about that. I know how it is with crying mothers."

"You ever going to tell yours that you're alive?"

Mark shook his head. "We had a conflict of interest in 1980. I didn't talk to her when I was alive, why the hell would I try if she thinks I'm dead?"

Ben just shrugged. "I know that if I died without patching things up with Mum, she'd probably sob harder than she did the other night. What do you think your Mum did?"

"Dunno. Doubt if she even came to the funeral." Danny hadn't mentioned her. Of course, he had only asked about Alex and Gene.

Ben narrowed his eyes, studying Mark a moment, realisation dawning on his face. "I remember your name. Mark Evans... Yeah. Mum and I were up in London one weekend, and I was reading the obits."

"A nice tragic hobby for a young man such as yourself."

Ben shrugged. "It was for class. I was just doing it when I was out of town. Preceded in death by Stephen Evans. Survived by Charlotte Evans."

"There you go. My parent's names."

"No, you don't understand. I was doing something for my arts class, and so I went to your grave. There was a woman standing there, by the grave."

"I'm still slightly disturbed that you went to my fake grave."

"Believe me, I didn't expect Mark Evans to be popping up in my life ten months later. Anyway, the woman, she laid flowers by your grave. She smiled at me and said she laid flowers there every day as she apologised. She was crying. I asked her how she knew you. She told me she was your mother, and I apologised and then she said that she wished she could have said sorry in real life. Because saying sorry over your grave did nothing."

Mark stared at him, disbelieving. "You're joking me. You're having me on."

Ben shook his head. "No, seriously. Go ask Mum! I had to go to the graveyard to discuss the gravestones and what period of art they were styled after, and I wrote about yours and I think I actually still have the essay. It was after I met the woman that I went to the library and read the obituaries from the time of your death. I'm finding that essay tonight."

"Please don't. It's still creepy."

Ben laughed. "God. How weird is that?"

"Incredibly," Mark said, thinking. "You're really not having me on about my mum?"

Ben shook his head furiously. "I swear to God. That really happened."

"Jesus."

They sat in silence for a few minutes before Ben stood, looking at his watch. "It's late. I'm joining you on the Christmas run tomorrow, so I better go."

"Not going to be hung over this year?"

"After puking my brains out all the way home last year? I think not."

Mark smiled, letting Ben out, preparing for the next day. He was nervous, but took deep breaths to calm himself. Tomorrow was a big day. The biggest day.

~(*)~

Mark walked downstairs from his shower, still grinning. Sarah had bought even more flour, icing sugar and bicarb this year, and the mess in the kitchen had been insane. He almost considered wearing Wellies downstairs because he had a feeling the bottom half of his jeans would be covered in white by the time they were done. As he approached the bottom of the stairs, an albino version of Iggy ran past him.

"Screw this," he heard Sarah saying. "I'm getting a damn maid."

"None would come near here," Ben replied. "You willingly throw icing sugar everywhere."

Mark entered, grinning. "Oh look," Ben said. "He's too clean now. I just want to throw it all over him."

"Don't even think about it," Mark warned. "Go take your shower. Besides your _black_ dog is white. Aren't you happy about that?"

Ben grinned and walked upstairs, handing the now white broom to Mark.

"You know, we should put tarp over the floor. And then we could just pick it up and toss it all."

"I knew I was going out with you for a reason," Sarah said, kissing him. "You come up with the best ideas."

"Watch it. I just showered. I don't want to look like you again."

"Oi!" Sarah said laughingly, holding a handful of flour. "I _could_ throw this at you, you know."

"Yes. But that would delay presents and I've got a good one for you, I think."

Sarah looked at him."Oh? What is it?"

Mark smiled. "I can't tell you. It's a surprise."

"Please? Just a hint?"

"Can I have a hint about my present?"

"Of course not...oh."

Mark smiled and nodded. "I win," he laughed. "No! No! Please not the hair!" he yelled as she put the fistfuls of flour into his hair, turning it white.

"God, that doesn't suit you," she said, grinning from ear to ear. "Don't go grey, Arthur."

"I'll try not to."

"What happened down here?" Ben asked.

"I won," Mark said wryly.

"Looks more like you lost, mate."

"No, this is just what your Mum does to winners. Watch out. Your hair is still wet. She'll try and make hair-dough."

"Watch it," she warned.

Mark pretended to zip his lips. Sarah glared playfully at him and walked upstairs to take her shower.

"You got the ring?"

Mark nodded. "I don't think I can do this."

"Nonsense. You'll do it, she'll say yes, and you'll live happily ever after throwing baking products on each other."

"I didn't make her start that as a Christmas tradition you know."

"But what a brilliant one it is. Whoever came up with it must be truly an amazing person."

"He wishes."

They finished piling the flour, bicarb and icing sugar into a pile as Sarah walked downstairs. "We can put it in the rubbish later. It's time for presents."

Just like the year before, Ben laid out the presents in front of them. Mark had two in front of him, Sarah two, and Ben roughly six or seven. Iggy sat on the floor in front of them, his tail wagging excitedly, even though he had the laurel wreath fixed onto his head once more.

Ben was first to open his presents, like the year before. As he reached Mark's envelope, his face was full of excitement. If possible, it increased when he looked at what was inside. "I get to meet the Arsenal players," he said.

Mark just smiled. "I'm wasting all the good presents early. You're going to have nothing come 1987."

Ben just laughed, before turning to his Mum. "I think we should leave yours for last, Mum," Ben said. Sarah frowned, but nodded, turning to Mark to have him open his presents.

"Better wrapping job this year," Mark commented dryly, watching Ben flush. He unwrapped it, and opened the box. Inside was roughly half a dozen books, all on various historical topics he had commented his interest in. On the bottom was a handwritten paper. Mark frowned, picking it up, starting to read it.

_I went to a cemetery in London for this project. There were many sculptures there, but what caught my eye was the solitary figure of a lone woman, crying over a grave. I went over to talk to her..._

Mark looked up. "You weren't lying then."

Ben shook his head. "You can read it all the way through later."

Mark nodded, setting it aside, wondering if he would ever read it. He wasn't sure that he wanted to face it. He focused his attention on Sarah's present. He unwrapped it, surprised. It was a Rolex Submariner. "Jesus Christ. Did you sell your soul?"

"Just Ben's," Sarah joked as he slipped it on.

"I love it. Thank you." He kissed her, feeling his nerves really start. It was her turn to unwrap her gifts.

The first thing she unwrapped was a yellow spiky object. She looked at it, confused. "What is it?"

"I don't know, but the guy said it was some type of fruit, and you don't have one."

Sarah laughed, setting it aside, unwrapping the next gift. It was a tin of biscuits from Harrods.

"I thought you'd like the tin," Ben said simply.

Sarah assured him that she did, gushing over it. However, as she finished, she looked at Mark. "No present from you?" she asked softly.

Mark smiled gently. "Of course there is. I just didn't want to wrap it." He reached into his pocket, pulling out the box, and getting down on the floor.

"I'm being selfish this year, because if you respond the way I hope you will, you'll be giving me an enormous present." Sarah stared at him, eyes wide, face shocked.

"Sarah Noble, will you..."

At that moment, Iggy jumped on his back, paws on Mark's shoulders, head resting on his. Ben doubled over laughing, but Sarah was too entranced by the box. Mark steadied himself, ignoring the dog.

"Will you marry me?" he asked, opening the box.

"Oh, Arthur," she murmured, staring at the ring. Her face broke into a huge smile. "Of course I will."

He took the ring out with shaking hands and put it on her finger, smiling at her. She pushed the dog off of him and kissed him.

"I love you," he murmured.

"I love you too."


	8. Chapter 7: Cheese

**Chapter 7: Vows**

**September 1987**

"Arthur, will you relax?" Ben said tensely as Mark adjusted his tie for the thirtieth time that minute. "You've had the world's longest engagement. This is just a natural step."

Mark adjusted his tie again, making Ben grab his hands and put them down by his side. "But..."

"There's no buts." Ben interrupted. "Jesus Christ. You've been engaged since 1985. Relax. She loves you."

Mark started playing with his watch. "I don't know if I can do this."

"What's so different?" Ben asked, shaking his hair back. "You two have been living together for a year and a half. You're already completely a part of each other's lives."

"The people," he stuttered.

"Since when have you had nerves in front of people?" Ben sighed. "Arthur... _Mark._"

Mark stopped, shocked at hearing his old name fall from Ben's mouth.

"Mark, you're an ex-MI-5 agent. You know how to remain calm under pressure," Ben said, his arms on Mark's shoulders.

"You called me Mark."

"I thought it might be a shock to your system. Get rid of some of the nerves."

"You got that bloody right," Mark mumbled, starting to fiddle with his cufflinks.

"It's a small wedding anyway, Arthur," Ben said, reverting back to the name he was comfortable with. He smiled at Mark. Mark took a deep breath in, focusing on assessing Ben to calm his nerves.

Ben's normally messy long blonde hair was combed nicely, and the grey of his tie made his eyes seem even more blue. His shirt was not tucked in, and his vest unbuttoned. The flower was half hanging out of his button hole and his cufflinks had yet to be put into his cuffs. Of course Ben could be completely at ease. He wasn't the one about to commit to a lifetime with a woman. Mark wanted it to happen, of course, but now that the day was here...Well, he would go ten rounds with Will Grey rather than walk down the aisle.

"Do I look okay?" he asked.

"You look fine," Ben reassured him. "Much better now that you shaved that stupid beard off your face. I thought I was going to have to chase after you with a razor for a while."

"I like my beard," he protested as Ben slowly started to put himself together.

"Yeah, but Mum hates it, and today is her day, isn't it? And besides, if you had refused, she would have gotten me to get my friend Geoff to shave it off for you. Isn't it better to be sans Geoff and plus Mum?"

Mark raised his eyebrows and nodded.

"Good. If you hadn't said that, I was going to go to her and tell her everything so that she could punish you later."

"You're awful."

"I'm the evil stepson," Ben said, grinning, finally completely buttoned and putting on his suit jacket.

"Too right. I'm surprised you haven't given me a poisoned apple."

"That'll come later. Now, the music is starting. Walk down that damn aisle."

Mark swallowed, making the lone walk down the aisle. Sarah had argued with him about inviting his mother, but eventually, she was left out of the invitations list. He stood at the front, watching nervously as Ben walked in with Sarah's maid of honour. The music changed and then, she was there.

Sarah looked radiant in her dress. It wasn't expensive; she had said that since it was her second wedding she didn't really need all the frills. Mark didn't mind, and now, he knew that the frills would have ruined her stunning beauty.

She walked down the aisle slowly, and Mark finally remembered to breathe. As she approached him, she smiled softly, adding to her beauty.

She stood next to him, and Mark smiled. "You look stunning," he murmured. She smiled up at him.

"You too."

The ceremony passed quickly, simply a blur for Mark. It seemed like no time and then they were back at her house, to have their reception with a few of their friends. Sarah's mother had been at the house for days, cooking and creating food for the guests. It had resulted in the house smelling delicious and Mark getting his hand slapped more than once.

Mark held Sarah's hand as they approached the door. "Are you ready, Mrs. Newton?" he murmured.

She smiled at him. "I'm ready, Mr. Newton."

They kissed and he picked her up.

"You're so _cheesy,"_ she said, laughing.

"It's not cheesy, it's romantic," Mark admonished.

Sarah just raised her eyebrows. "If you say so."

Mark grinned and walked through the door to the cheers of their friends. Iggy was barking loudly. He heard Ben shush the dog as he set Sarah down and their friends starting to chatter amongst themselves once more.

Ben came up to mark, smiling. "Congratulations, Arthur," he said. "I think you'll like my speech." He smirked.

Mark suddenly felt worried. "You know you can't..." he started.

Ben smiled widely. "I know. But that doesn't mean that I can't have a brilliant speech. You might want to have a small drink or two first."

Ben smirked again, walking off to find Sarah, who had gone to the kitchen to talk to her mother. Mark felt dread building inside his stomach. He looked at the clock, deciding to go outside and smoke. However, just as he was about to light up, a familiar weight settled on his shoulders. He looked up, smiling. "Hey Iggy. You should get down."

The dog removed himself from Mark's shoulder, licking his cheek and settling next to Mark. "Good boy," Mark murmured, scratching Iggy's ears. Iggy wagged his tail, leaning into Mark's hand. Mark continued to scratch the dog absentmindedly, lost deep in his thoughts.

It was funny, he realised, that he had to die in order to find true happiness in his life. He thought he had been happy before, when he had first started in the service, and maybe he was, but the happiness he felt now was so much more substantial. Maybe, after all the years of adversity and struggle, he had finally learned to appreciate it.

He sighed, thinking about his mother. Sarah had tried to get him to tell her that she was alive, but he had refused. She had wanted his mum at the wedding, but since Mark wouldn't go near her, she couldn't invite his mother. He had told no one why they had such a row, only that it involved work, when really, it was about nothing of the sort.

He thought back to when he was six, and his mum's friend had sat him down on the couch. "Your mum and I are getting married, Mark," the man had said. "I'm going to be your daddy."

Mark hadn't liked the man, but at six, he really didn't get much of a say in the matters of his mother's personal life. Their marriage hadn't been a happy one; they split up when Mark was twenty, but Mark still called the man his dad. The row came much later, however, only four years before his supposed death.

"Hey," Sarah said. Mark turned to see her standing in the doorway. He smiled.

"Hey," he replied.

"I was wondering where you'd gotten to. Ben said that he saw Iggy following you to the garden."

"I've never been the best in crowds," he said. "It gets too stifling."

Sarah smiled, going to sit next to him.

"No, don't sit down yet," he said. "You'll ruin your dress."

He took off his suit jacket and laid it on the ground.

"You'll ruin your jacket," she replied.

"Yes, but I'll never look as good in it as you do that dress. And besides, your dress is white. My jacket is black. Where's the dirt going to show?"

Sarah looked at him, but sat down. They sat next to each other, just enjoying each other's company, watching Iggy run around the garden, chasing squirrels.

"That dog is obsessed with squirrels," Mark commented.

"I'm worried about that," Sarah said. "One day, he's going to rip the lead out of my hand and run out into the street."

"I'll go after him," Mark promised. "And who knows? My running skills have improved greatly over the past several years. I can probably run faster than him now." He pulled her into him, wrapping his arm around his shoulder. "I'd catch him, Sare. I promise."

She smiled up at him. "I knew I married you for a reason."

"You know I never really liked dogs?"

Sarah gave him a look. "What?"

Mark shook his head. "I didn't mind them, I didn't mind training them, but I couldn't imagine owning one. I thought they were dirty and noisy and irritating."

"How did we get together?"

"Your dog jumped on me," he said, smiling as she rested her head on his shoulder. "And I was willing to take the dog if the owner would even consider being friends with me."

"You know all the right things to say," she murmured.

Mark kissed her head as they watched Iggy continue to run. No matter what, he never seemed to tire. It would be a sad day indeed if he did wear himself out.

"What the hell are you guys doing out here?" Ben asked from behind them. "Everyone's wondering where you went. It's time for speeches. Come on."

Mark looked at Sarah. "Ben says his speech is amazing."

"Oh, he just likes to boast. You know that."

Mark smiled. "I'm a bit nervous about how it's going to end up."

"Relax, Arthur. He'll be...well..." She cocked her head, thinking. "Maybe we should just go see."

Mark nodded, helping her up and picking up his suit jacket. He left Iggy out in the garden, figuring it was safer than letting the dog into a house full of people.

"Can I have everyone's attention?" Ben's voice asked loudly. "Arthur here asked me to give a speech, and I honestly don't know what he was thinking. I've got enough dirt on him to get Mum to make him sleep with Iggy for months."

"Iggy sleeps in your mum's bed!" Mark called, and the room sniggered.

Ben just grinned. "You know, when I met Arthur here, we didn't really get on. Some of you here will remember that my dad just walked out when I was sixteen. I didn't trust any man Mum went near after that. And Arthur was no exception. But you know, there was something special about him. When Mum talked about him, her voice got excited. Her face lit up, something that I hadn't seen for years when she was with Dad. And he didn't try and bullshit me either. He told me exactly what he thought, and promised me that he wasn't trying to get together with Mum. Three days later, he and Mum were together." The room laughed.

"I wanted to be angry about it. But I couldn't be. Mum was too happy for me to be angry at Arthur. So I did the next best thing. I promised him that if he ever hurt Mum, I'd come after him. And I know now, he won't do anything of the sort. He loves my Mum too much. I remember Christmas Eve of 1985, he came and asked me permission to propose."

Sarah looked at Mark in shock. He didn't realise that she didn't know he had done that.

"He knew Mum was concerned about my opinion, so he wanted to get my opinion before he shoved her between a rock and a hard place. And so I told him yes. So he has me to thank for celebrating this day," Ben said, looking at Mark laughingly.

"Arthur, I'm really glad that Iggy chose you to try and kill, instead of any other man in the park. Mostly because of the Arsenal tickets, but you are also great for my Mum. I wish you nothing but happiness in the future of your marriage and life."

Ben raised his glass. "To the bride and groom."

The rest of the room murmured the toast and drank. Speeches continued for a little while longer, but eventually, someone put Spandau Ballet on and _True _came on the stereo.

Sarah looked at Mark. _"Cheesy,"_ she said.

Mark smirked pulling her close. "Romantic," he murmured back.


	9. Chapter 8: Iggy

**So first off,congratulations to Eleantris, who completely predicted something like this happening about two chapters ago. **

**Chapter 8: Iggy**

**April, 1989**

Mark woke next to Sarah and smiled, kissing her awake. It had been a year and a half and he still felt like he was on his honeymoon.

"I was sleeping," Sarah murmured sleepily. "Piss off."

Mark smirked, kissing her again. "Iggy wants to go for his walk."

Iggy, who was laying on the bottom of the bed, barked.

"Iggy can wait," Sarah replied, pulling the covers over her head. Mark smirked, looking at the dog.

"I think she needs some help, Iggy."

Iggy started to wag his tail and cocked his head. Mark pointed at the lump that was Sarah and nodded. Iggy barked again, standing up again and walking on top of the lump, sniffing eagerly.

"What the...Arthur I swear if you keep using Iggy as an alarm clock I'm going to hurt you."

"You've said that every day since before we were married."

"And one of these days, I _will_ go through with it."

Mark merely smirked, lowering the covers down enough so Iggy could reach Sarah's face. Iggy started to lick her cheek repeatedly, and Sarah finally sat up, looking grumpy. She wiped her cheek.

"I'm up, are you both happy?"

Iggy barked and jumped from the bed, returning with his lead.

"Let me get dressed first," she said testily. Sarah was always irritated in the morning until she had had her morning run. She got out of bed, putting her clothes on. Mark followed suit, putting on his running gear. Iggy followed the both of them around excitedly, wagging his tail and barking.

"Give us a minute," Mark said. Iggy sat and stared at them mournfully until they finally were both ready to go. Sarah attached Iggy's lead and they started out the door. They started onto their normal route, which was getting longer every day. It was much longer than it had been in 1984, when they started running together. Eventually, Sarah was planning for them to participate in the London Marathon. They were able to get about thirty kilometres at a time on their long runs, it was only a matter of time before they were ready.

They were about halfway through the run and just starting on the way back when Iggy spotted the squirrel.

He started tugging at his lead. Sarah tried to hang on, but Iggy was too strong, and the lead snapped. "Iggy, no!" she yelled, but Iggy didn't hear her, chasing the squirrel down the pavement. Mark started off at a sprint, trying to get close enough to the dog's collar to grab him.

Instead of going up the tree like most squirrels did, this squirrel went into the street and Iggy barrelled after it. Mark followed Iggy without thinking, yelling out to the dog. Iggy stopped and yelped as a car slid into him.

Mark heard the screeching of tyres and then suddenly, he was flying through the air, landing on the top of the car and rolling down over the boot. His head smashed against the ground, but he stayed conscious, feeling the pain radiate through his body. He could hear Sarah screaming from the pavement, but then it all fell silent as he succumbed to the pain and his vision went black.

_Voices surrounded him, but he could make nothing out. He heard Sarah's voice but her words were garbled together. Finally, two emerged from the cacophony._

"_Arthur...no."_

_He heard sirens wailing their way closer to him and felt someone holding his hand and stroking his hair._

_Suddenly his vision came back, and he saw Sarah's face, streaked with blood and tears._

Is that my blood?_ he wondered, surprised that he was able to wonder. _

_People were surrounding him. He heard Sarah say his name and looked toward her. The sirens were silent now, and he saw the bright vest of one of the ambulance crew._

"_Arthur," he heard one of them say. "Can you hear me?"_

_The world fell silent again and it all faded to black._

He was only aware of how comfortable he felt. The pain that had rushed through his body was gone, replaced by the feeling of numbness. It was quiet around him, but in a soothing way.

He took a deep breath in and opened his eyes. Iggy was sitting next to him, looking at him mournfully. He licked Mark's face once.

"What are you doing here Iggy?"

The dog merely perked up his ears and started walking away from Mark. Frowning, Mark stood, following him. He wasn't in any place he recognised. The floors were gleaming mahogany and the walls painted a bright bluish grey colour. There were windows at the end of the hall and he could see a sea in the distance. He was led out into a hall and downstairs to the front desk of what he assumed must be some sort of hotel. The man at the desk smiled at him.

"Mark Evans, so glad that you're here."

Mark frowned, looking at the desk, seeing a guest sign in book. "Should I sign in?" he asked, thinking this was the weirdest dream he had ever had.

The man gave his gleaming smile again, his white teeth contrasting sharply with his black hair. "Not yet. We've got someone who wants to talk to you. If you'll follow me."

The man emerged from behind the desk and Mark followed him. Iggy had disappeared by this point and Mark wondered idly where he had gone. The man walked through several rooms, finally getting to the back, where a man sat in a room. The room was made of windows on two sides, with a glass door in the middle of one of the walls. It looked directly out on the sea. He focused his attention on the man. The man was wearing a late forties or early fifties style suit. His brown hair was slicked back and the lines of age hadn't really started to fully appear on his face. He had light grey eyes and a sombre smile.

"Mark."

Mark frowned at the man. "Should I know you?"

The man smiled sadly. "I doubt you could know me. For you, I'm just barely a shadow of a memory, if that. But to me, you were my whole life."

"Who are you?"

"Mark...I'm your father."

Mark backed away slightly, surprised. "What?"

"I'm your father. Stephen Evans."

"But you're...you're..."

His father nodded. "Yes."

"Does that mean...?"

"No. I just wanted to see you, Mark. You were my son. I never got to see you grow up. And you turned out to be a good man. A Spook, no less. I'm impressed."

"You would have been impressed? That's better than..."

"I know. I don't know what your mother was thinking when she married that man. But I do know that she thought he was a good role model for you."

"He put down everything I ever did. I was never good enough for him."

"But look at you now. You're better than most people."

Mark looked down. "Is this why you wanted to see me?"

"No, actually. I still love your mother, Mark. Even after what she did. And it hurts her that she never fixed things between you before you 'died,' he said, using hand quotes. "I want you to go find her and tell her you're alive."

"Dad! You know what she did!"

"She regretted it."

"Regretting it doesn't change the fact of what she did."

"She didn't realise what she was doing, Mark. Don't hold her responsible for the error in her judgment. Go tell her that you're alive."

"But my cover..."

"She'll keep it, Mark. Can you promise me that one day you'll do it?"

Mark considered this thoughtfully before nodding.

"Good. I'd hate to see you let me down."

His father smiled softly at him. "Do you know what the last words I said to you were?"

Mark shook his head. "You be good for your Mummy, Marky. And you nodded your little blond...you were blond back then...head at me and said 'Okay Daddy. I will.'" His father smiled. "I'm going to lead you out of here, Mark. It's not your time to sign in. Maybe in the future, hopefully a long way yet. You say hello to your Mother, and don't let Sarah down. And stop getting hit by cars. That's twice this decade."

Mark smiled and his father stood, leading him out to the front where Iggy sat by the door mournfully.

"Say goodbye to Iggy, Mark."

Mark looked at his father. "He's not coming with me?"

Stephen shook his head. "He's been signed in."

Mark knelt down with tears in his eyes. Iggy licked his face mournfully.

"Bye Iggy," he said, his voice cracking. "You really were the maddest dog I've ever met. Thank you. If you hadn't have jumped on me, I wouldn't have met Sarah, and God only knows where I'd be then. I'll see you when it's my turn to come back."

He stood, staring at his father.

"Son, I never got to give you my blessing. You've got it, you know. Live a happy, long life."

"Thanks...Dad."

His father hugged him, and Mark stiffened, surprised before he let himself be pulled into the hug.

"You be good."

"I will, Dad, I promise."

Mark walked out of the house towards the path, hearing Iggy howl behind him. Slowly though, Iggy's howls faded and the fog drifted over the path.

"_...waking up...doctor..."_

"_...tests...let him...don't want...madness..."_

The voices were fading in an out and sounded as though they were from a distance. However, he could tell immediately who they belonged to. Ben and Sarah were by his side. He started to struggle against his eyes, finally relaxing and letting them open slowly by themselves. The bright lights assaulted them, but after a few moments of blinking, everything came into focus.

"They were worried about you," Sarah said, her voice tearful and accusatory. "They didn't know if you'd make it back."

"Mum, calm down," Ben said. "You'll get him all flustered and he's just woken up. Arthur, mate. Nice to see you've finally joined us again."

"How long was I out?" he said, his voice raspy and quiet.

"A little over a day," Sarah said quietly. "You hit your head pretty hard."

Now that she mentioned it, his head was slowly starting to throb. However, try as he might, he couldn't remember what had happened.

"What happened to me?" he asked, not trying to move yet, afraid of the pain he might experience.

"You chased Iggy into the street."

"Iggy," Mark breathed. "Shit. He didn't..."

Sarah shook her head sorrowfully. "He didn't make it, Mark."

Mark closed his eyes. "My fault," he murmured. "If I hadn't have yelled his name..."

A hand softly joined his. "No," Sarah murmured. "Not your fault. Neither of us could have prevented it. Iggy was too strong when he saw squirrels."

"If I'd have trained him better."

"Arthur, shut up. You aren't to blame for this. No one is." Mark looked at her despairingly but she fixed him with a stare he wasn't used to seeing. Finally he conceded, just as a nurse bustled into the room.

"Oh, you're awake," the nurse said, surprised before turning on Sarah. "Why didn't you let us know that he was waking up?"

Sarah stared at the nurse with distaste. "Because I didn't want to," she stated simply, crossing her arms.

"Well, you should have let us know. The doctor will want to do tests."

"Yep," Sarah replied. The nurse glared at her but Sarah held her ground. Finally the nurse turned to Mark.

"I need to get your vitals. Are you in any pain?"

"No," Mark replied as the nurse wrapped a sphygmomanometer around his arm and started to take his blood pressure. She nodded, continuing through a full assessment before she left to find the doctor.

"Do you want to tell me what's going on before they do?" Mark asked, smirking.

Ben smiled, and Sarah gave a small grin. "You've got a few broken ribs, a decent concussion, and they were worried about bleeding on the brain since you hit your head so hard. You were semiconscious on the way to hospital, but you'd passed out by the time you got here. You've been unconscious since. Ben noticed you trying to open your eyes about an hour ago."

Mark's eyes flicked to the clock. It was 9.06.

"And what's going on between you and that nurse?" Mark asked.

"She's an evil cow," Sarah said as the nurse walked back into the room, doctor in tow. Ben immediately doubled over in laughter.

"Mr...Newton," the doctor said, looking at Mark's chart to learn his name. "We were quite worried about you."

_I'm sure you were,_ Mark thought inwardly. _If you actually knew what was wrong with me._

"You've got a few broken ribs and we'll want to keep you a few days for observation of your concussion, but you should be good to go by Tuesday. Is that alright?"

No, it wasn't. He wanted out of hospital now. But one exasperated glance at Sarah later and he found himself nodding. The doctor smiled and walked out, and Mark glared at Sarah.

"I want out of here," he said.

"I don't care. I want to make sure there's nothing wrong with you."

"Mum, there's always been something wrong with him," Ben said. "He started going out with you because Iggy ran into him."

The room suddenly tensed as Iggy's name was brought into the conversation.

"When I get out," Mark said firmly after a long silence, "we'll have a funeral for Iggy. Hang the laurel wreath on his favourite tree."

Sarah smiled sorrowfully. "I love that idea."

Mark smiled back at her, aware of how tired he felt.

"I really am sorry," he murmured, holding her hand.

Sarah ran her free hand through his hair. "It's okay Arthur. As long as you're alive, we'll all be okay."

**I'm hiding under a duvet until you all promise not to hurt me.**

***is currently hiding***


	10. Chapter 9: Nero

**To Kath: First off, congratulations on figuring out the title. Secondly, yes, Iggy dying doesn't go with the title, but I never meant it for non-human animals. I didn't even think of non-human animals when I created this fic. Yes, it's rough to see a dog die like that, but the fact of the matter is, even if Iggy had lived a full life, he would have been dead by 2002 and there would have been an angsty MY DOG DIIIIIIIIIIIIIED chapter anyway, just a bit further along. Plus, it helped move the plot along. So I'm sorry that Iggy dying screws up the title for you. But for me, Iuro Omnes Vivere is not a lie. Iuro Omnes Vivere is still true.**

**Chapter 9: Nero**

**July 1990**

The laurel wreath still hung on the tree, tattered and worn from weather and wind. Some of the leaves had fallen off, and the ones that remained were faded and ragged. It was a lonely site in the garden, one that filled Mark with guilt if he looked at it too long. They had long stopped discussing the death of Iggy, but Mark still felt as though it was his fault.

He stirred milk into his tea, watching it turn the brew opaque, before moving to where Sarah sat on the sofa. Their bond was a strong as ever, but since April last year, it had really felt like they were missing someone important.

Sarah was reading the newspaper, and he set a mug of tea in front of her, settling on the couch next to her, turning on the television to the news. It was more to provide noise than anything else. He spent too much time staring at the anchor, wondering if what they were reporting was a lie or not to pay actual attention to the news.

"Anything interesting?" Mark asked as Sarah put down the newspaper.

"Actually, yes," she said, smiling at him.

"Oh? Interesting to me?" he asked, smirking.

She slapped him playfully. "Yes, even to you. The man that I got Iggy from has another litter of pups for sale. We could get another."

"A replacement?"

Sarah shook her head. "Of course not a replacement. No one could replace Iggy. But you know, we do have all those dog toys still just sitting in a box upstairs. I know you miss having a dog."

"No," Mark said grinning. "I told you when we got married. I didn't like dogs."

Sarah just rolled her eyes. "Fine. I'll go buy a dog and you'll have to deal with it."

"I can't even pick?" he whined.

"Thought you didn't like dogs," Sarah replied, folding her newspaper.

Mark sighed, looking at her. "Fine. I love them."

"Well, that doesn't sound convincing," she said, leaning into him.

"Should I do a song and dance routine all about my love for them?" he said as he put his arm around her.

"Please no," she laughed. "You're a terrible dancer. And your singing isn't much better."

"You've wounded me to the core," Mark said flatly. "I don't know how I'm going to live now."

"Neither do I. What am I supposed to do if I want to be serenaded?" she asked.

"Buy tickets to see Barry Manilow."

Sarah made a noise of disgust. "Never. Phil Collins."

"Him?" Mark asked exasperatedly. "God, I'm lucky Iggy jumped on me! Otherwise you would have kidnapped and married Phil Collins instead!"

"Is that why you wouldn't let me have a tape of him at our wedding?"

Mark just raised his eyebrows and winked.

"I knew it," she muttered, crossing her arms.

Mark smiled at her. "So this dog..."

"I think we should go look at the puppies at least."

Mark sighed. "I suppose you're right."

"Iggy's memorial will still stay up," Sarah said matter of factly. "We don't have to take that down."

Mark smiled. "So when are we going?"

"Well, I suppose I'll have to ring him. If you don't mind..."

She got up from the sofa and walked to the phone. Mark heard her mumbling through the wall, but ignored it, instead stretching across the sofa. He rolled his face to the wall, so his back faced outward. He could hear Sarah hanging up the phone.

"The man said that we could... Oh what are you doing?"

"Sleeping," he said.

"Well wake up. He said we could come over now."

Mark rolled over, looking at her with fake grumpiness. She just kissed him on the cheek. "Have I ever mentioned that you're the bestest husband in the whole wide world?"

"Only when you want a piece of jewellery," he remarked.

Sarah smirked. "Let's go."

Twenty minutes later, they were at the man's house. The man smiled at Sarah. "I remember you. Coming to get a companion?"

Sarah looked down sadly. "Unfortunately, Iggy passed away last year."

"Oh no! How did that happen?" the man asked, concerned.

"He was hit by a car," Mark said stoically. "The lead snapped, and before I could catch him, he wandered into the street. I ran out after him, but..."

Mark left the sentence hanging. He could see the man immediately start debating about whether or not to sell them another dog. "We miss him a lot," he continued. "Losing Iggy was like losing a child. Nothing's been the same since then. And, you know, getting another dog won't replace him, but it'll be a nice addition to our family."

He looked at Sarah, who had tears welling in her eyes. The man was starting to look sympathetic, so Mark knew just how to win him over.

"I just keep telling myself that if I'd been just a little bit faster, maybe I could have caught him before he got into the road. If..." He had a genuine lump in his throat now and swallowed, trying not to let his voice break. "If that damn car hadn't have hit me, maybe I could have gotten there in time to save Iggy. We put up a memorial to him in our back garden."

"You were hit by a car?" the man asked, dumbfounded.

"All I could think about was saving Iggy," he replied.

The man scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. "I've got the pups in here," he said quietly.

"What was that all about?" Sarah asked quietly as the followed the man.

"He wasn't going to sell us one," Mark replied. "Thought we were irresponsible."

Sarah gave a nod of understanding as they looked at the pups.

"Sire's name was Baxter. Bitch is Lula. They're purebred Black Labs."

Sarah smiled. "Iggy's litter had the same parents," she murmured.

"You're right," the man said. "Why, you could consider yourself getting Iggy's brother or sister."

Sarah smiled. "Can we play with them?"

The man nodded and let them out. The dogs all ran toward them at once. One little one got halfway there, before seeming to be surprised by his own legs and falling over.

Mark looked at Sarah to see that she had immediately picked that one up. The puppy immediately started to lick her, and when she sat him down, it wagged its tail so hard that it promptly fell over again.

She looked at him and he sighed at her jokingly. He could see in her eyes that she knew he was joking, but she picked up the dog and brought it over to him.

"He says '_Please_ give me a home, Arthur. Pretty please?'" The dog suddenly started to urinate, getting wee all over Mark's shirt.

Mark glared at the dog as Sarah started to laugh.

"We'll call him Nero," he said.

Sarah wore a smile like the Cheshire Cat the whole way home. "You're doing potty training," he said. "I don't need more dog piss all over me."

"When did you turn into such a grump?" she admonished, holding Nero in front of her face. "You're just adorable, aren't you?" she asked the dog.

The dog reached out its tiny tongue and licked her face. "He's such a sweetheart, Arthur!"

Mark finally smiled as the pulled into the house. "Let him out into the back," he said. "That way if he has to wee, he can do it out there."

"You were great at training Iggy," Sarah said. "And you're getting him younger. You'll have him taught in no time."

Mark raised his eyebrows. "I will be delighted if it doesn't take me three months to teach him how to sit," he said, laughing.

"We can start taking him out on runs once his legs get longer," Sarah said excitedly.

"We have to get a different lead," Mark said softly. "And leave Iggy's collars up in storage."

Sarah gave a soft smile. "Well then, do you want to go shopping?"

"After I change my sodding shirt," Mark said, feigning grumpiness. Sarah just smiled and kissed him.

"Don't swear in front of the puppy," she smirked.

Mark just stared at her in disbelief before going upstairs to change his shirt. He smirked as he changed his shirt. He was glad that they had gotten a dog, no matter what he was acting like around Sarah. Maybe this would take away some of the guilt he still felt about Iggy. No matter what Sarah told him, he still felt that he should have caught Iggy before he ran into the street. He shouldn't have called Iggy's name. Iggy probably would have been fine if he hadn't yelled his name.

Mark shook his head. He needed to stop blaming himself for what happened to Iggy. It was over a year ago now. He couldn't control the lead snapping anymore that Sarah could have. And it wasn't like the lead was showing signs of wear either.

He sighed as he took off his shirt and looked into the mirror. How could Sarah stand to look at him? He had so many scars. There were bullet wounds on his body, ugly puckered scars that he hated to look at. There were scars from being hit by cars, being tortured for information...There was no doubt, he had a Spook's body.

"Arthur, are you alright up there?" Sarah called.

Snapped out of his reverie, Mark nodded before realising that Sarah couldn't see him, as she was downstairs. "Er...yeah. Be down in a second."

He hurriedly buttoned up another shirt and walked downstairs to see Sarah cleaning a mess up on the floor.

Mark raised an eyebrow. "He shat on the floor."

"He's a puppy. You still have to potty train him."

Mark gave her a playful glare. "At least it wasn't on me," he said, picking the puppy up. The dog started to wriggle in his grip and lick his face. Mark couldn't help it; he had to smile.

Sarah came back into the room at that moment and looked at him knowingly. "Well, would you look at this. Mr. Grumpy Gills likes his puppy."

"I paid for the damn thing," he said.

"You're turning into a crotchety old man," Sarah joked.

"I'm in my mid-forties. It was bound to happen sometime," Mark said with a wink.

Sarah smirked. "Are you ready to go?"

"Let's get this guy a box or something to piss in. I have a feeling that his accidents are going to be happening frequently along the way."

Nero started wagging his tail furiously and licked Mark again.

"See, now if that isn't a confirmation of what he's planning, then what would be?"

"You make him sound like he's an evil mastermind, Arthur."

Mark looked at the puppy, which promptly sneezed.

"I wouldn't put it past him," Mark said. "He's probably just waiting...and then one day, he'll take over the world!"

"Well, it's a good thing you're an ex-Spook. You'll be able to figure out what he's up to before he does it."

"Yes, I am the sole protector of this country," Mark said, pretending to gloat. "Bow down before me."

Sarah gave him a light slap on the back of the head.

"Is that close enough?"

Mark tucked the dog into one arm and rubbed the back of his head. "That really hurt," he complained.

Sarah raised an eyebrow. "Too bad. Get your arse into the car. I want to get this collar and lead before the shops close."

Mark sighed as Nero started to vigorously lick his hand.

Sarah placed a kiss on his cheek and they went out to the car, putting Nero in a box. The dog immediately yawned and settled down, looking ready for a nap.

"He is too adorable!" Sarah said. "Can we get another?"

Mark looked at her in disbelief. "You're like a three year old!"

Sarah smiled. "Watch out there. You're a crotchety old man, I'm a three year old... we're married..."

Mark was very tempted to smash his head against the steering wheel. Instead, he shook his head, grinning, and said nothing.

"Let's get him that collar, shall we?"


	11. Chapter 10: Moving

**I give Misty a sock, because she remembered that I was supposed to update today. *presents sock***

**Chapter 10: Moving**

**August, 1992**

Nero barked loudly as Mark piled the last of his belongings into the boot. He smiled sadly, walking through the house that had been 'theirs' for so long.

"Do you need a wee before we go?" Mark asked Nero. Nero barked and wagged his tail.

"I'll take that as a yes," he said, letting Nero into the back garden. He looked at the tree in the back. The laurel wreath was gone, blown away one night in a particularly bad storm. It had been a blow to them, but Iggy was never completely gone, and Nero would have probably torn it down at some point anyway. He smiled softly as he looked on the back garden one more time.

"This is it, boy," Mark said as Nero stood beside him. Nero whimpered softly and Mark smiled. "Let's go."

He ushered Nero into the back seat of the car, knowing that the trip from Bath to London was going to be very long indeed with him there. He was better trained than Iggy, but he was still a brother from a different litter, and they were extremely similar in personalities.

Mark honked the horn of the car and Sarah emerged from the house, holding a suitcase full of the last items they needed in their house.

"This is it," she said as she stuffed the suitcase into the back with Nero.

They had moved most of their things earlier in the week, but had decided to spend one last weekend in their old house, just for the hell of it. It had seemed lonely in the house, but it was also the perfect retreat before the hustle and bustle of London life.

Mark started the car and they drove the long journey from Bath to London, stopping at least every hour because Nero got stir-crazy and started to attack Mark when he was trying to drive. They finally made it, however, and Sarah brought the last suitcase inside the house.

"We finally made it," she murmured, leaning her head on his shoulder. Mark smiled, putting his arm around her.

"We did," he murmured back, as Nero started running up and down the stairs before running to the kitchen, losing his balance and sliding across the floor to the back door. Sarah started to laugh and Mark felt a smile working its way across his face.

"Why don't we let him out and then we can go to the shop?" Sarah agreed and half an hour later, they were walking into the shop that he had bought to sell his artwork. He wasn't duly concerned if he sold much art or not, but it gave him something to do. He was also thinking of doing caricatures for tourists, like he had done in Bath, but that required more sketch work than he really liked to do.

Mark felt odd as he approached the store and without thinking, tried the door. It should have been locked, but it opened easily.

"Get behind me, Sarah," he murmured. She looked concerned, but did so. His mind was racing, trying to determine who could be in his shop. The only person who had keys was Ben, but he had said he was going to be out of London for a few days.

Mark heard a noise in the back, and motioned for Sarah to stay where she was. He moved stealthily to the back, listening for any sound. To his surprise, he heard a girl giggle, followed by the low rumble of a male voice that he recognised.

"_I'm serious. I'll take you to Italy just so you can try the native cuisine instead of the shit that they pass for Italian here."_

"_But surely some of it's decent?" _a girl asked.

"_You've not tried a pizza from Naples. I went there once. Nothing is as good as a piping hot Neapolitan Pizza."_

"How can you take a girl to Naples, Ben, when you can't take her on a proper date anywhere else?" Mark asked, pushing the door open. Ben was lying on the ground across from a woman Mark recognised as his steady girlfriend, Danielle. They had been together for nearly two years, and Danielle had joined them for their last Christmas. Instead of buying three different products, Sarah had bought double the flour and icing sugar as she had been, and they had had a fight between couples. It had culminated in a show-off between Mark and Ben and ended with them wrestling each other in a huge pile of flour and icing sugar. When the timer had finally buzzed, Ben threw a handful of flour directly in Mark's face, which ended up in them throwing the baking products for another ten minutes before Sarah yelled at them that they had better come to the dinner table, or else. How she managed to get the dinner out without getting flour or icing sugar all over it, no one was quite sure.

Between Ben and Danielle was a basket of breads and cheeses, and a half full bottle of wine. "Don't you have a better place to have a picnic than in my back room?" Mark asked.

Ben grinned, standing up and shaking his long blond hair out of his face. "Actually, Arthur, I wanted to talk to you about this."

"What?"

"Danielle, will you go out and entertain Mum?" Danielle nodded, her face flushed with excitement.

"What's going on?" Mark asked suspiciously. Ben was wearing a huge, appeasing grin and Mark knew immediately he was going to ask him for something.

"Well, I was wondering what you were going to do with the upstairs of this place?"

"I hadn't really thought about it. Why?"

"Well," Ben started to say as the two women started to shriek in the room next to him. "I _may_ have just proposed to Danielle. And, well, I was thinking that we'll need a place to live and my scrubby little flat in Hackney isn't going to cut it. So I was wondering if we could possibly rent from you and live there?"

Mark smiled widely. "Of course you can. Consider it our wedding present."

"Thank you Arthur!" Ben said exuberantly, embracing him tightly. "You don't mind if we move in before the wedding, do you?"

Mark stared at Ben, almost glaring. "You want to live with a woman before your married?" he asked judgementally. Ben cowered at his look.

"Well..."

"You have known a woman biblically, Benjamin?"

"I'm...I'm twenty six," he stumbled.

"If I said no, I'd be a sodding hypocrite, wouldn't I?" Mark asked, suddenly laughing. "I lived with your Mum years before we got married. And I'm not an idiot. You're a bloke. Keeping it in your trousers past seventeen is something of an accomplishment."

Ben still looked shaken, unused to Mark getting authoritative, but smiled. "Thanks mate," he murmured finally.

Mark laughed to himself, before walking out to see Sarah nearly strangling Danielle in a hug.

"Arthur!" she cried, letting go of Danielle, who immediately grabbed her neck, seeming to gasp for air. "We're going to have a daughter in law! My baby is getting married!"

Tears were streaming down Sarah's face. "Ben!" she yelled. "Ben, get your ruddy arse in here!"

Ben walked out of the back sheepishly, and almost fell over as his mother attacked him with a huge hug.

"You...you're...YOU DIDN'T TELL ME YOU WERE EVEN THINKING ABOUT IT!"

"I'm...sorry?" Ben said, trying desperately to remove his mother, who was clinging onto him like a giant octopus.

"My baby," she sobbed. "My baby is all grown up now!"

Ben looked at Mark desperately, who was tempted to grin and shrug, but seeing that Ben was slowly turning blue, he walked over to Sarah.

"You should let him go, honey," he murmured, gently tugging on her shoulder. She finally let go of Ben, who looked relieved and walked over to Danielle. She shook her long dark hair behind her shoulder and smiled as Ben whispered something in her ear.

"Well, we're going to be off, I think," Ben said. "Have fun trying to get mum under control, Arthur."

They waved as they walked out the door, leaving Mark with a still-sobbing Sarah. "I just...I can't believe it," she gasped finally. "All these years. My little boy. Now he's going TO BE MARRIED! _I'm too young to be a grandmother! _Oh, God, Arthur! I'm _old!_" She burst into a fresh round of tears and Mark patted her back gently, thinking that she was overreacting ever so slightly.

"You know, Ben left a bottle of wine and a basket of cheese and bread in the back. We could be cheeky and steal it from them."

"You're not telling me you want to 'christen' the shop?" she asked, disgusted.

Mark frowned and shook his head. "We were going to have a date, just you and me in the back. No dog jumping up on us, no television, nothing to distract us."

"You know where that usually leads us," she murmured, turning into his embrace.

"We'll be extra careful," he whispered back, stroking her hair.

Sarah looked up at him, her eyes huge and still red from crying. Mark smiled as he looked at her. She looked so beautiful. She always did. No matter what she wore or how tired or ill she was, she was always gorgeous to him. Their faces drew closer and their lips met, tongues twining slowly, passionately. He had gone so far to be with this woman. He had _died_ to meet her. She was the woman he dreamed about at night; she had been from the day they first met. Mark was hit suddenly with how truly lucky he was.

They broke apart reluctantly, staring into each other's eyes, their foreheads touching, and both panting just slightly. "I don't think you're old," he murmured. "I think you are absolutely beautiful and perfect and wonderful."

"You're being cheesy again," she murmured.

Mark just smiled. He knew that she loved those moments, even though she protested that they were cheesy.

"It'd be very cheesy of me to sweep you off your feet and carry you into the back, then, wouldn't it?"

Their lips met once again and they kissed before Sarah responded.

"Yes," she whispered. "Extremely." They kissed again, and Sarah gave a little gasp of surprise as Mark picked her up off the floor. She pulled away from him. "What are you doing?"

"Carrying you to the back."

"I don't think we should go to the back," she murmured. "I think we should go home, Mark, and christen the bedroom."

"Nero's waiting at the house." They looked at each other a moment before Sarah broke into a huge grin and a giggle. "We're really going to do this, aren't we? Here?"

Mark smiled, and pulled away from her, locking the door. "Here," he responded, picking her up and taking her into the back.

Four hours later, they were still half-clothed in the back, finishing off the bottle of wine. Sarah was relaxing in his arm and they were leaning up against the wall.

"I love London," Sarah murmured.

"It's growing on me," Mark replied, smirking.

Sarah smacked him gently. "You were the one who wanted to come here. You were the one who set it up."

"Because you wouldn't shut up about it," he said back.

"Oi." She smiled at him, snuggling in closer to his arms. Mark smiled, holding her tighter, glancing at his watch.

"We should get back home. Nero will have torn the house apart. We've missed his evening walk."

Sarah rolled her eyes. "Crap. You get to pick up after him."

"Me?" Mark asked, feigning being offended. "What have I done to have to clean up after Nero?"

"You bought him."

"After you begged me."

Sarah looked lost for words for a moment before she smiled. "You trained him. You should have trained him not to tear up the house."

"Low," he replied.

She merely smiled at him, kissing him on the lips before removing herself from his arms to find her shirt.

"We've still got cheese left over," he said. "Do you want some?"

She shook her head, buttoning up her shirt. "We'll just take it back with us."

Mark sighed, standing up and looking around the back. Soon, he would cover it in paintings. Soon, his shop would take root. He slipped on his trousers and kissed Sarah. "Let's go see the damage, shall we?"


	12. Chapter 11: Bugs

**Chapter 11: Bugs**

**2000**

Mark stood outside the house, trying to work up the courage to knock. Finally, Sarah had persuaded him to go talk to his mum. It was something she brought up on holidays and birthdays, something that she would bring up every time her mum came to stay.

And then, last night, he had had a dream. Sarah's mum had been staying for the past week and when they went to bed, they had talked about going to see his mum again. He had vehemently refused, stating their irreconcilable differences. Sarah still didn't know what his mother had done, still believed it to be a tiff about work.

He had let her believe it, because how could he tell her the truth? How could he tell her that his mother helped to _murder_ his father? They had been approaching the topic, and he had cut her off, turning his back to her, feeling her anger at him, but not caring. When he finally fell asleep, it had been a fitful doze, until the dream came.

_He was walking on gleaming mahogany floors, looking at artwork that hung on the bluish grey walls. The smell of salt was in the air, and he could hear the sea in the distance. The desk was unmanned, but as he walked past it, a black shadow passed in front of him and sat down. _

"_Iggy," he said, smiling. _

_The dog barked, wagging his tail, allowing Mark to pet his head before walking away. _

"_Iggy, where are you going?" he called, but the dog continued to trot away, to the very back of the place, where two walls were set in glass and a man sat in a chair._

_He turned when Mark entered. _

"_Dad," Mark said in disbelief. _

"_Mark," he said, smiling only slightly. "Good job on the not getting hit by cars."_

_Mark smiled. "Thanks. I worked really hard on it."_

"_That's the only thing, since we last met," his dad said sternly. "I told you to go see your mum."_

_Mark closed his eyes and sighed. "I __will__ Dad. I just...I'm working up to it."_

"_Mark, you don't have much time left."_

"_You mean Mum's going to join you?"_

_Stephen Evans didn't ever, merely looking at him. "Go see your mother, son. As soon as you wake up tomorrow, go see her." He turned and sat back down in the chair, and a bark from behind him told him that Iggy was there._

_Mark turned, following Iggy back to the front of the building._

He had woken with a start, covered in sweat, disturbing Sarah.

"You okay?" she had murmured sleepily.

"Yeah," he had replied. "I'm going to go make a cup of tea." She had murmured something and fallen back asleep. Mark had stayed up the rest of the night, mulling over the dream, and after their run in the morning, had decided to go straight to his Mum's. So now he was there, debating about knocking or walking off. He looked around the street. There was an electrician's van parked at the house next to his mum's, and cars lined the street.

Taking a deep breath, his arm finally reached out and he knocked on the door. His heart beat faster as he heard her call out that she was coming and as her footsteps approached the door.

As the door opened, his first thought was of how she had hardly changed. Twenty years had passed since the last day he saw her, and she still stood tall and proud, her face slightly more lined, and her hair white. But the lines and the white hair were the only change. She looked as fierce as ever, her eyes piercing and her face sharp. However, all of this fell away as she looked at Mark.

"It's...it's not possible..." she murmured, her jaw dropping and her hand covering her mouth. "Sixteen years..."

"Twenty since we last saw each other," he replied quietly.

"But..."

"I know."

"Tea?" she finally mumbled.

Mark nodded stiffly. She led him back to the kitchen, which was exactly the same as he had always remembered it. "You sit down," he said. "I'll make the tea."

"You know where everything is?"

"Well, everything looks the same." He immediately went to one of the cupboards and opened it, revealing mugs for tea. "See?"

Minutes of silence passed as he started to make the tea. Finally, he was getting ready to stir in the sugar, getting the canister out of the cupboard. "Two?" he asked, and she nodded.

Mark stirred in the sugar and started to put the sugar back when something caught his eye. There was a small black disc on the back of the cupboard, about the size of the iris of an eye. It didn't look like it belonged in his mother's dated kitchen. It looked too high tech. Suddenly the answer came to him.

"Mum...you've been bugged," he said, before crushing the disc underneath his foot.

She looked terrified before the fierceness returned to her face. "Get out. Now."

However, before he could even move, people were invading the house. A man with short brunette hair and blue eyes walked in first, followed by a woman with very short blonde hair and a dark skinned man with his head shaved.

As they arrested him to take him to headquarters, the only thing he could think of was that he was going straight to a place where the older population would think he was dead. What was he going to do then?

The journey was short and he was led through a maze of corridors before the dark skinned man led him into an interview room. The other two had taken his mother somewhere else. Mark noted that the young man was sweating, but not from heat. Mark could clearly see the nerves in the set of his face. It would have been unnoticeable to people who had not once been an MI-5 officer, but he had kept his skills honed through the years and he was easily able to distinguish this feature.

"First serious job?" he asked socially as he was handcuffed to the table. The man said nothing, walking out of the room, leaving him alone to his thoughts.

He wondered what his mother was involved in. Whatever it was, it was really serious, and he was frustrated with her. Would she ever learn her lesson? She caused her husband's murder, and now, she was suspected of terrorism. He sighed, as the door opened and the three agents walked in, sitting across from him.

He could tell that the brunette man was the most seasoned of all of them. His face was blank and his eyes were cold. The woman was not an old hand, but she wasn't new either. Her face was blank but her emotions still showed through her hazel eyes. It stunned him how much she looked like Alex had all those years ago. The young man was clearly brand new, his forehead still sweating.

"Do you need a handkerchief for your forehead?" Mark asked him. Even though he was a suspect in some anti-terror investigation, he felt overwhelming sympathy for the man. "You're sweating rather a lot. I know it's scary, being your first interview and all."

The three ignored him, but he could see surprise in both the woman's and the young man's eyes that he knew it was the man's first interview.

"My name is Matthew," the oldest man said. "This is Sophie and Jamie is on the end. We want to know how you are involved with Charlotte Evans.

"What is she doing? Why has she merited the interest of MI-5?"

"How do you know Charlotte Evans?" Matthew asked again, and Mark knew that he wasn't going to break any of them, especially with Matthew in the room. He half wanted to play with them, to test the ability of their skills, but he knew nothing would scare any of them more than the reveal of who he really was.

He turned to the woman Matthew called Sophie. "Sophie," he said. She looked at him directly. Delayed reaction, he noticed. Definitely not the woman's real name. Mark smiled. "You look like this woman I knew back in the day."

"How do you know Charlotte Evans?" she asked.

"Christ, you even sound like her. You're even somewhat in the same line of work. I mean, she was a copper, you're a bit more 'refined,'" he said, making air quotes with his handcuffed hands.

"Mr. Newton," Matthew said sternly. Mark turned to him, wearing a small smile on his face.

"Yes?"

"How do you know Charlotte Evans?"

"Christ. Not to be distracted, you lot. Still I understand. They beat that into your head quite hard." He sighed, looking at the three who were staring at him. He really didn't want to tell them how he knew his mother. But he also knew that if he didn't tell them, he'd more than likely be spending the night in a cell, with Sarah worried about where he was. He wished he could ring her.

"Mr. Newton?" Sophie asked again.

"You won't believe me," he said. "But what the hell? Charlotte Evans...she's my mother."

Matthew frowned and Jamie handed him folder. "Her son died in 1984. They were estranged for years before."

Mark smiled, deciding to refer to his past self in third person. "I remember that well. Mark found this folder... all the details of Stephen Evans' death. It broke his heart when he found out that his mother was responsible for his father's death. Of course, she didn't know what she was doing when she got involved with those men, but he still held her responsible. And then...his death. Poor bastard screwed up a case. Can you believe it?" he said, looking directly at Sophie. "He fell in love with the woman he was supposed to save. Course, that didn't settle well with the Head of Section D. Back in those days, the man's name was Danny." Mark saw the man on the end jump just a fraction of an inch and immediately knew his name, but continued. "Danny warned him that he was going to end up dead, and what do you know? Rescuing the woman he thought he was in love with, found out that his junior officer was corrupt, and then the junior officer shot him in the chest. He haemorrhaged later in the night, after surgery. So Danny came back to headquarters, and told young Harry Pearce that his senior officer had died. Apparently poor Harry took it hard."

Mark could tell that he had deeply disturbed these three officers, but Matthew continued.

"Arthur, I can call you that? How is it that a man who owns a paint shop, who _lived in Bath_ at the time of Mark Evans' death knows what happened to him?"

"I know all of the facts about Mark Evans. I know his childhood. I know how he got recruited into MI-5. I know his cases. I know his death. The only thing I don't know is if Harry still works here. Being absent for sixteen years gets you out of the loop, you see. Now, why don't you let Danny go fetch your section head, because I have a feeling that that is what you are currently thinking about doing."

Danny jumped at the mention of his name.

"Why do you think his name is Danny?" Matthew asked.

Mark smiled. "Well, the jump when I said to get your section head was obvious enough, but when I was telling Mark's story, and mentioned his section head, Danny, your mate over there jumped just a tiny bit. Just like I know her name isn't Sophie," he said, inclining his head toward the woman. I addressed her by name, but her eyes focused on me just a fraction of a second too late. She's used to the name, but not as much as her real one. You'd get the same thing from me if you called me Mark, even though that's my real name." Mark winked.

"Jamie," Matthew said. "Go get the head."

'Jamie' nodded and walked out of the room. The two remaining officers stared at him, and he could feel them trying to dissect him.

"Should I prove some more to you? Neither of you are married, that's clear by the lack of rings or shadows of rings on your fingers. You, Matthew, are obviously just getting off an undercover role and took charge of this either yesterday or today. Other than that it was Sophie's case. You can tell that you were undercover by the slight shadows under your eyes. Either that or you've met someone new and are having really great sex that keeps you up most of the night," he finished as the door opened.

Matthew opened his mouth to speak but looked at the man entering the room and silenced. Mark looked at the door, staring at the balding man.

"Jesus Christ you've gotten old," he said. "How've you been, Harry? Can you tell them who I am and let me go? See, I've got my wife who is expecting me home soon."

Three heads swivelled toward Harry, who stood there with his mouth hanging open in shock.

"You're..._dead._ Sixteen years!"

Mark smiled softly. "_I_ am not. Mark Evans is. Arthur Newton," he said, winking.

"But Danny..."

"I told him to. I screwed up, Harry. Badly."

Harry seemed to become aware that the other three were in the room. "You two," he said, gesturing towards the younger officers. "Out."

The officers walked out and Harry sat down across from Mark, Matthew watching them warily. He passed Harry a folder, and Harry looked at it.

"Arthur Newton. Born in 1946, London. Moved to Bath for University. No record. Had a government position within Bath until February, 1984, when you left. Since then, you've been receiving a pension and any jobs have been under the radar, until 1992, when you opened up a shop in London."

Mark winked. "Hole in one."

"You bastard. _You died. _I nearly _killed _George for killing you! I lost both of my best friends that day. And now you pop up, sixteen years on!"

"Harry, I'm sorry," Mark interrupted. "Yes, I lied to you. Danny lied to you. But the fact of the matter is, that case screwed up my entire career. I might have been decommissioned anyway!"

"All because of that stupid woman," Harry spat. "That damn Alex Drake."

Mark nodded solemnly. "But you know what? If it hadn't have been for her, I would have never found my Sarah. I died, and then I started to live."

Harry shook his head. "Jesus Christ Mark."

"Arthur. No one's called me Mark in years."

"_Arthur," _Harry said emphatically. "You disappear for sixteen years, and you show up on our radar as a possible connection to a terrorist group."

"What's my Mum caught up in, Harry?"

"I can't tell you. But I'll let you go say goodbye to her. She's going to be going to prison for a long time, Mark...Arthur."

"Harry," Matthew said. "We still haven't figured out whether he's involved or not."

Harry stared at Mark, who shook his head just slightly.

"I trust this man. We'll keep him under some surveillance for a few months if it's so desirable to you, and then we take him off."

Matthew nodded finally.

"Good," Harry said. "Now, come with me."


	13. Chapter 12: Mum

**Chapter 12: Mum**

Mark followed Harry around the building, interested. However, he got extremely excited when Harry took him to the Grid, thinking that the pods were one of the neatest ideas they came up with.

"I'm not supposed to be taking you back here," Harry said.

"Blindfold me," Mark suggested sarcastically. "I promise, I won't look at your papers."

Harry rolled his eyes and led him into an office.

"Impressive that you're head honcho."

"Yeah, well after you died, they brought someone else in and he died within the year. After that they promoted me."

"What about Danny?"

"I can't tell you that, sorry, mate."

Mark just shrugged. "That's why I got out of here. Too many damn lies."

"Your entire life is."

"Sarah doesn't care. And as long as she continues not to, then it'll be 'real'."

"You wanted to ring her."

Mark nodded. "I want to tell her what's going on. Why, your lackeys will be bugging our house in a few minutes. And I want to tell her _exactly_ what's going on."

"It's a matter of national security!"

Mark just glared at Harry, who sighed. "No, I'm not telling you what she's in trouble for, Mark...Arthur."

"You're going to let me talk to her though?"

"Yes. I'm surprised though. Last I knew, you were saying that you had no parents at all."

"That's the amazing thing about being sixteen years older and getting hit by a few cars. You gain perspective. Now do I get to phone Sarah or do I have to force you to let me?"

"First, you have to sign the Statute."

Mark sighed. "Seriously? I did that ages ago, Harry. You know that!"

"No," Harry replied. _"Mark Evans_ signed it. _Arthur Newton _did not.

Mark glared, but Harry just shrugged. "New person, new form," he stated simply.

Mark sighed, signing his name on the form Harry presented. "Now can I ring Sarah?"

Harry shook his head. "No. Right now, my officers have gone over to bug your house. You don't tell her you've been bugged. Don't tell her that your mother's a political prisoner."

"But I tell her everything. When the foundation of your marriage is built on a lie, you've got to remain pretty truthful otherwise."

Harry merely shook his head. "Nothing. You can say that she was arrested, but that's it. You don't know what for anyway, so we are okay there."

Mark glared at Harry.

"If you don't agree _Arthur,_ I can't let you out of this room."

Mark looked at Harry, studying him. The years had given him a tired appearance, but that wouldn't be obvious to someone who didn't know him in his prime. His face was more lined with grief and sorrow, but his eyes were hard. Mark could tell that Harry was hiding his emotions and he felt distinctly uncomfortable at the thought. He wanted to know how Harry was feeling towards him being alive, but knew that he would never be able to know.

"You can visit with your Mum and then you can ring your wife," Harry said stoically. Mark nodded stiffly, and Harry stood, letting Mark follow him out from the grid to an interrogation room. As the door opened, Mark looked at his Mum. She was sitting defiantly, her shoulders back, her chin jutted out. However, when she saw him, her whole demeanour changed. She looked broken, defeated.

Mark nodded once and sat down across from her. "Mum." He could hear the coldness in his tone, but didn't care, even as she flinched at it.

"How?" she whispered. "Sixteen years I've been going to your grave..."

"Fake funeral," Mark replied in a tone just as cold as before.

"Mark, I'm sorry...I'm so, so sorry."

"Not really though, are you? I mean, here you are, in trouble with the government. You would have thought you'd learnt your lesson when those men demanded blood since one of their own got killed. You would have thought you'd learnt your lesson when they tried to take your son away. You would have thought you'd learnt your lesson when instead of your son, they killed your husband. All because of you."

"Mark, I couldn't say no! They would have killed me!"

"Did you go to them, or did they go to you?"

His mother remained silent, tears starting to appear in her eyes. Mark stared at her silently, knowing the answer.

"Going to them makes it your fault that you couldn't say no. And now you've lost any sympathy I would have had for you. You know, this morning, I came to your home to try and reconcile things. And now, we're prisoners of the government."

He shook his head at her disgustedly. "You know, there's nothing else to really say. It's a good thing _my_ mother died back in 1980."

"Mark, don't say that!"

He stared at her icily. "My name isn't Mark," he said shortly. "It's Arthur Newton, and I don't have a clue who you are. Get me out of here!" he yelled at the door.

The door opened and Harry held it as Mark walked out, not even turning to look at his mother one last time.

"My own fucking mother," he said, spitting the words out. "Gets my father killed for money and then now, she's involved in something else. God, why did I have to have such shit parents?"

Harry looked at a loss for words and patted Mark's shoulder awkwardly before speaking. "You...you can ring Sarah now."

Mark nodded stiffly. "Where's a phone?" Harry led to him to a phone, and Mark picked it up, looking at his old friend.

"Are they still bugging the house?"

"They're not back yet. It's a good chance they are."

Mark nodded and punched the numbers to Sarah's cell phone. She answered after the second ring.

"_Hello?"_

"Sare, it's Ma...Arthur." He cursed the slip of his tongue. Being called Mark all day, talking about that man all day had reversed what he had carefully constructed for sixteen years.

"_Arthur, what's going on? Why did you almost use that name?"_

He sighed into the phone. She didn't miss anything. "I had to bring up my old identity."

"_Why?!"_ Sarah sounded concerned, and he didn't blame her.

"You wanted me to see my Mum. Halfway through our meeting, we were arrested. I had to tell them my old name because that was what Mum was referring to me as." A lie. He hated lying to Sarah.

"_Oh my god. Are you okay? Do you need me to come get you?"_

Mark shook his head before remembering he was on the phone. "No. I'm almost out of here. I'll be home soon."

"_I don't know if the street will be open when you get there. They blocked off the street because of a supposed gas leak. Everyone was evacuated. I'm over at Ben's with Nero. He and Danielle have invited us to stay for dinner."_

"I'll go to Ben's then."

"_I'll see you soon then. You can tell me more in person."_

"Sounds great," he said.

"_I love you, Arthur."_

"I love you too, Sare." He hung up the phone and sighed heavily, looking up at Harry. "Can I leave yet?"

"Only a few more questions."

Mark put his face in his hands, feeling drained. "What more do you need to know?"

"After all these years, why did you seek her out? You've...Mark...has been dead for sixteen years."

"Sarah knew the story but wanted me to try. I kept having dreams about my father...my _real_ father, telling me to go see her. I hope I have the dream again so I can go punch him in the sodding face."

Harry nodded, pausing to inhale before his second question. "Why didn't you let Danny tell me you were alive?"

"I didn't tell him specifics Harry. Danny acted on his own discretion there. Best only him and his superiors. Surely you can see that, being head now?"

Harry seemed to think for a moment before nodding. "You're right. If...what name was the senior officer using?"

"Matthew."

"Right. If Matthew wanted to die off, I wouldn't tell..."

"Sophie and Danny," Mark supplied.

Harry frowned. "Danny used that name?"

"You mean his real one? No. He used Jaime or something, but I mentioned _our_ Danny and he jumped."

Harry sighed.

"He's new," Mark said. "Give him a chance."

"He's got promise, but slips like that..."

"Are normal. Jesus, are you not remembering my last case? All it was was a giant slip up."

"Have you seen Alex since?"

Mark smiled. "Once. When Sarah and I were on holiday in 1985. She looked so much happier. We left her alone, don't worry."

Harry smiled. "You'll have to forgive me for asking. Last I remembered, you were obsessed with her."

Mark nodded. "You're right, of course. She clouded my judgement. Hence why I'm sitting on this side of the table, and you're section head."

"Oi," Harry said, but there was no real fire in the statement.

Mark smirked, leaning back in his chair. "I'd ask you how your life is going, but I can't, Spooky man. Well, I can, but you can't tell me."

Harry smiled at Mark, seeming to hold back a laugh. "You're right of course. I can't tell you much at all. We'll just say that being a Spook has been a completely number one priority in my life and that the rest of my life has been affected by it."

"So it's shit, then."

Harry smirked and stood. "And with that, Arthur Newton, our time together comes to a close. Please remember that you've signed that paper and cannot tell Sarah about anything discussed here today."

Mark saluted. "Yes sir."

"Oh, how I've missed your sarcasm. Get your arse out of here."

"One small problem. I have no idea how to get out. This wasn't exactly where Mark Evans worked in the eighties."

"You're right of course. I'll show you out."

Mark followed Harry out of the building, riding the Tube back to his mother's house, where his car was still parked outside. He drove to the shop, which Ben and Danielle still lived above, with their daughter, Emma. Emma was only just two years old, but seemed like she was going to be brilliant for her age. She had inherited her mother's dark eyes, but her hair was a whitish-blonde. Mark knew that didn't mean she had taken after Ben however. Her hair could very well grow darker as she grew older, much as his did.

He simply walked into the flat upstairs, where Emma was entranced by Sarah and a teddy bear, and Ben was standing in the kitchen, holding a cup of tea, watching with a smile on his face. All heads turned to the door as he walked in.

"Papa!" Emma cried as he walked in, and ran to him as fast as her stubby little legs would take her. He picked her up and swung her in the air, making her giggle happily. She wrapped her little arms around his neck, hugging him. "Hi Papa."

"Hello," Mark responded, smiling even though she couldn't see him. All these years, he had never thought he would be a grandfather. Then a little under three years ago, Ben and Danielle had come over, enormous grins on their faces.

The pride Mark had felt when Ben made the announcement was only comparable to the pride he had felt when he had become a spook, but it far surpassed even that moment. Ben had really become like a son to him over the years, a son and a friend, and he was delighted.

He had fallen in love with Emma the moment they had first seen her, sleeping quietly in her mother's arms. After that, Emma frequented their house to stay the night when her parents just needed some time alone.

"Yes," Ben said, clearly speaking to his daughter. "You've stayed up until Papa got here, but now it's naptime."

"Daddy!"

Mark shook his head. "You listen to your Daddy, Emma. I'll be here when you wake up."

She stuck her thumb in her mouth and pouted. "Promise?"

Mark nodded, setting her down on the ground. "Now go get Mr. Tiddles and go take your nap."

Emma nodded, waddling through the room, collecting the bear and then back to her father, who took her to her bed.

"Hey," Sarah said, smiling and walking over to Mark. She kissed him.

"Hey back," he smiled.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he replied. "It's Mum that isn't."

"What was she involved in?"

"Dunno for certain, but whatever it was means that she's probably not going to see the outside of her jail cell for the rest of her life."

"I'm sorry, Arthur," Sarah said, her arms around him.

"Don't be," he replied gruffly. "She was Mark Evans' mother, not mine. And Mark Evans has been dead for sixteen years."


	14. Chapter 13: Arguing

**Chapter 13: Arguing**

**18 May 2002**

Mark lay on a blanket in the park, playing tug of war with Nero. Nero had been slowing down lately, but he was twelve years old, and that was only to be expected. Sarah sat next to him, reading a book.

Nero finally let go of the rope and lay down, putting his head on Mark's lap to be pet.

"I don't know why you're reading that book again," Mark said. "You've only read it six hundred times since we got married."

Sarah smiled, setting down her well-worn copy of _The Count of Monte Cristo._ "Because I love it," she said simply. "Some days, more than I love you," she teased.

"Ouch," Mark said flatly, holding his chest. "I'm wounded to the core."

Sarah smiled and kissed him, before picking up her book. Mark grabbed his, a new copy of _Dreamcatcher_ by Stephen King. Nero, realising that he wasn't going to be pet again, grabbed his bone, starting to gnaw on it, ever vigilant for people that wanted to give him some loving attention.

They relaxed like this for a long while, letting the nice morning turn into afternoon. Mark looked down at his watch when he felt his stomach rumble.

"It's gone one," he said softly to Sarah, who was deep into her book. Sarah waved at him. "I've got five more pages. We can go after I'm done."

"It ends the same way," Mark said, raising an eyebrow. "I can guarantee you nothing's changed since you last read it in January."

Sarah waved him off again, and he silenced, watching Nero starting to lick his paw. People were walking around the park enjoying the nice day, unusually warm for the last day in May.

Mark closed his eyes, relaxing against a tree when he heard a noise that sent his eyes flying back open.

It was a loud, distinctive laugh, one that he hadn't heard in ages, but would never forget as long as he lived.

"Shit," he murmured. "Sarah, we have to go."

"I already told you, at the end of this book, Arthur!"

"No, Sarah, we _really_ have to go."

Sarah looked up at him, irritated. "Why?"

Mark pointed across the path, where a woman and a man were walking with their children. The man was silver haired, but the woman had dark brunette hair and a scar down her cheek. The little finger of her left hand was missing.

"Alex," Sarah hissed. "You should go say hi."

Mark shook his head. "I told you, that's impossible!"

"You went and saw your mum!"

"Yeah and that turned out well."

Sarah rolled her eyes. "Go over there," she whispered.

"No."

Sarah sighed and they looked at the family. The boy was dark haired and had a broody expression on his face, similar to the one Gene always wore. The girl was brighter, with long blonde hair and a smile that matched Alex's.

They settled down on the patch across from Mark and Sarah, and Mark turned his back. "Can we _please_ go now?" he asked.

"No," Sarah said, raising her eyebrow. "I'm going to finish my book."

Mark clenched his jaw, keeping his back turned, trying not to listen to the family's conversation.

It was for that reason that when Nero suddenly jumped up and ran, he couldn't react in time to grab Nero's collar. Mark turned to see Nero suddenly tackle Gene. Sarah had looked up from her book with an expression of utter horror on her face.

"Not _again,_" she said. "You should bloody deal with this crap," she hissed as she threw her book to the ground. Mark picked up the book, hiding his face behind it, just enough to see.

"Jesus Christ!" Gene was yelling. "Sodding dogs..."

The others in the family were laughing at him as Gene flailed, unsuccessfully trying to remove Nero from his face. Sarah was already at their blanket, apologising profusely.

"Nero, down!" she ordered. Nero got off of Gene, his tail and ears dropping. "Sit," Sarah ordered.

Nero sat, looking up at her balefully.

"I'm so sorry," Sarah said. "I don't know what he was thinking."

Alex waved her hand in dismissal. "It's okay," she laughed. "That's the second time that's happened here, and it's actually funnier the second time!"

Gene had sat himself up, glowering. He spoke too low for Mark to hear, but he figured it was something along the lines of 'fucking dogs.'

Alex had finally stopped laughing and looked up at Sarah properly. "Wait a second...You're the woman whose dog jumped on Gene last time...Sarah Noble..." Mark read the last two words, and he assumed that she said them to herself, or just loud enough so Sarah could hear them.

"Sarah Newton, now," Sarah smiled. "Unfortunately, I still seem to have no control over my dogs."

"I can tell that," Gene said angrily.

"Dad, relax," said the boy, who was looking at the dog delightedly. "Hey, boy. Dad, why couldn't we ever get a dog?"

"Keep your nose out of it, Mark."

Mark jumped at the mention of his name. Oh, there was _no_ way that he was going to tell them he was alive now! They had named a _child_ after him?

"I really am sorry about Nero. He's a bit calmer than Iggy was, and at least he listens to me as well as Arthur. He just ran before either of us realised he was going anywhere."

"Is that your husband over there?" Alex asked kindly, pointing directly at Mark, who had hidden his face behind the book at the mention of the word 'Arthur.'

"Yes, but he's very shy. He's _terrified_ of coming over."

If he hadn't have been hiding been hiding behind the book, Mark would have shot her the dirtiest glare imaginable.

"Well, that's a shame," Alex said. "I'd quite like to meet him. After all, this is the second time we've met in this park..."

"Mum, what are you talking about?" the girl asked.

"About a year before you two were born, we were in the park and her dog trampled your father," Alex said, laughing.

Sarah smiled. "Nero's from the same sire and bitch. He and Iggy are pretty much brothers."

"Same mentality," Gene said, glowering at the dog, who had started to sniff his son. The young Mark smiled and started to scratch the dog's ears.

"We broke him out of that habit nearly a decade ago. I can't imagine why he attacked you."

"It's his aftershave," Alex said, and everyone but Gene laughed. The kids were growing bored, however, and started to play with the dog, Gene staring at them angrily.

"Please," Alex said. "I know you refused coffee last time, but _please_ let me buy you a coffee this time."

Mark saw Sarah glance towards him before smiling.

"Yes," she said. "Why not?"

Mark clenched his teeth together furiously. Why was she doing this to him? She knew that he wasn't supposed to reveal his existence. The man that Alex Drake knew was dead. Mark Evans was dead. He had been for eighteen years. He barely responded to the name Mark now. He heard Alex and Sarah laughing together and then Sarah calling to Nero.

He looked up over the book as they approached him, throwing a furious glare at Sarah.

"We're leaving now," he said fiercely, throwing her book at her and grabbing Nero's lead, clipping it onto the dog's collar. He walked away, leaving her to catch up with him. She jogged to catch up with him, walking in time with his footsteps.

"Arthur," she said, just as angry as him. "Stop it now. There's no harm in me having coffee with Alex. She's a lovely person."

"Except you're married to a man she's convinced is dead!" he said back, his voice rising. He lowered it, realising that people were starting to look at him. "What if you let something slip, Sarah? You're going to have to talk about me. I know her. She's too curious not to ask."

"You told me yourself, she doesn't know you like I do!" Sarah said tensely. "You told me: She doesn't know your back story. She doesn't know who your parents were, what happened to your dad. You spent less than half a year with her. And in those few months, she spent most of her time painting! You really got to a lot of talking didn't you? She knows absolutely everything about you, from your favourite food, to the fact that you don't really like animals. She knows that you prefer coffee over tea and you hate soda. She knows the location of every scar on your body and how you received each one. She knows the torture that you endured in your days as part of the government. And most of all, I forgot. She knows EXACTLY what you've been doing for the past eighteen years. That whole believing you were dead thing, she knows it's a front. As soon as I start talking about the man I met in Bath, she'll know exactly who I'm talking about. Yeah, you're right. This is extremely dangerous. Besides, I can't be trusted to not call you Mark, to remember that you're a man who runs his father's old paint shop."

Sarah glared at Mark, who clenched his teeth together.

"If you two get coffee, what happens then? You get closer, become better friends, eventually they're going to wonder why Arthur never is around. She'll invite you to dinner and you'll go alone. You'll have to make up excuses for me. It'll be a never ending web of lies, and that's unhealthy."

"Well that's all your life is!" Sarah yelled, stunning him to silence. "The _foundation_ of Arthur Newton is a lie. Your _whole existence_ is nothing but a falsehood created by the damn government."

"You've never had a problem with it before! You've known since 1985 who I really was!"

Sarah just shook her head. "You just don't get it, do you? Give me Nero. Find a hotel room. I don't even want to look at you today."

"Fine," Mark said. "Let me at least grab some clothes."

Sarah nodded stiffly. "Fine," she said.

They walked home in tense silence and Mark went straight up to their room to pack his things. Nero followed him around mournfully. Mark threw clothes into a suitcase and then moved to the bathroom to grab his toiletries. As he closed the suitcase, Nero whimpered sadly.

Mark knelt down and smiled sadly, scratching the dog's ears.

"Goodbye, boy."

He stood, grabbing his suitcase and walking downstairs, where Sarah was waiting with an angry look on her face. He could see the pain in her eyes but chose to ignore it.

"I'm glad that a damn cup of coffee was worth this," he said softly, walking out of the house as Ben pulled up outside.

Ben got out of the car, looking concerned. "Arthur what's going on?"

Mark swallowed angrily. "Your mum wants me out, so I'm going."

Ben stared at him desperately. "You can't leave, Arthur! You two...you're perfect..."

Mark shook his head. "Apparently not anymore. My false identity has finally gotten to her," he said.

"But..."

"I've got to go," Mark said quietly. "I hope it all works out, Ben. I really do."

"You can't just go!"

"I have to."

Mark looked back to the house, where Sarah was staring out the window at him. She looked furious and desperate at the same time. Nero was howling loudly.

"Arthur, please...for Emma. She's right here."

Mark looked at the little girl in the back of Ben's car, fast asleep in her seat.

Danielle got out of the car, picking Emma up out of her seat. Emma peered around blearily before falling back asleep.

"Arthur, surely you can fix this?" she asked.

"I don't know right now," he said. "I just don't know."

He swallowed the lump in his throat and put his suitcase in the car. He started the ignition and with one last look at the windows, he drove off, leaving Ben and Danielle staring disbelievingly at him driving away.


	15. Chapter 14: Biscuits

**Chapter 14: Biscuits**

**19 May 2002**

As Mark got out of the shower, he was convinced that his marriage was over. He had heard nothing from Sarah all night long. They had never had a fight like that before. It was far worse than he had ever experienced. It reminded him of the fights that his mother had had before she had broken up with his stepfather.

Mark sat on his bed, clothed only in his towel, and put his head in his hands. He refused to think it was his fault, but he also refused to blame Sarah. As pissed off as he was at her yesterday, he still loved her beyond belief. He clenched his teeth together, trying to stop the tears that were in his eyes. He didn't cry. He never cried. He swallowed the lump in his throat and stood up, getting dressed. He hadn't slept the whole night long. It had been too cold in his bed, too lonely.

He was getting ready to shave when he realised that he had not taken his razor or his shaving foam. Mark ran a finger along his stubble, hearing it rasp against his finger. Oh well. If his marriage was truly over, it wouldn't matter if Sarah liked him clean-shaven or not. He swallowed the lump in his throat again, refusing to give into tears. He wanted to ring Sarah, but he was afraid that if he tried, she'd just hang up on him. He doubted that she wanted to speak to him after their row the day before.

He looked at the clock, unsure of what to do. He supposed he could go open the shop, even though it was Sunday and he wasn't supposed to be in. Ben took care of it over weekends.

He considered going for a run, but he hadn't brought any running clothes and had just taken a shower. Mark sighed. He had no idea what to do.

There was a knock at his door. He expected it to be housekeeping, but no one said anything after a moment and so he walked to the door, opening it.

He was immediately knocked backward as a fist connected with his face.

"What the hell?!" he yelled, looking up to see Ben with a look of anger on his face.

"I told you that if you _ever _hurt my Mum I'd hurt you."

"How did you even know where I was?"

"This is the closest hotel to your house. I asked at the front and they were willing to give me your room number for a few quid."

"I'll have to remember not to come back here," he said darkly.

"Get up off the floor. You're coming with me."

"I can't go see your Mum, Ben."

"We aren't going to see her, you coward. I'm not going to sit here and have a conversation on your bed though, so we're going to find somewhere where we can discuss this." Ben walked to the door, holding it open for Mark and looking at him expectantly.

Mark got up off the ground and walked out of the room, letting Ben lead the way. Ben walked down the street to a little cafe.

"You're getting the bill," Ben said right after he ordered two full English breakfasts and two cups of coffee.

Mark just shrugged, ignoring the throbbing in his cheek.

"So," Ben said as his food arrived. "I hope you're proud of yourself. Mum spent the entire night crying last night."

Mark said nothing, staring at his breakfast.

"A stupid argument. That's what she called it."

"She was the one who wanted me out," Mark said. "She told me to find a hotel."

"She didn't think you would! God, Arthur. You've been together for eighteen years!"

Mark's jaw tightened. "She didn't tell me to stay."

Ben sighed. "Here's what you're going to do. You're going to go to your house, and apologise."

"I did nothing wrong!"

"You know it doesn't work like that!"

Mark smiled sadly. "I know. I just...It pisses me off that she won't listen to me about Alex."

"Coffee doesn't always lead to something else, Arthur."

"She _knows_ about Alex. She _knows_ that that woman believes me to be dead. She _knows_ that I'm not supposed to be parading around that I'm alive. Mark Evans died because his devotion to Alex made him screw up a case really badly."

"Exactly," Ben said, smiling. "Mark Evans is dead. _Arthur Newton_ has nothing to feel threatened by if his wife goes out for coffee with a woman he's never actually met.

Mark clenched his jaw together. He had to admit, Ben was making a point. He prodded one of the sausages on his plate with his fork before speaking again.

"What if they become friends?" Mark asked. "Eventually, they'll want to meet me."

Ben gave a soft smile, but didn't say anything, looking behind Mark, confused.

Mark turned to see a man with a bald hair and white beard behind him. He stared at Mark a moment before grinning.

"The last time I saw you," the man said, raising his eyebrows, "I told you to meet a girl and be a bartender. I hope you haven't just ruined all your aspirations, Arthur Newton."

Mark laughed in surprise. "My god..."

"Who is this?" Ben asked, peering from Mark to Danny.

Danny smiled and extended his hand. "Paul Whitehouse," he said. "I know Arthur from way back."

Ben raised his eyebrows knowingly, but said nothing about it. "Nice to meet you," he said.

"Now, I know Arthur and you know me, but I don't know you."

"I'm Ben Noble. Arthur's my step father."

"So you did find a girl!" Danny said laughingly.

"Yeah, but he's ruining everything," Ben said. "Mum met a woman from his past and wants to have coffee, but he's telling her no and they had a huge row about it."

Danny raised his eyes at Mark, and Mark knew exactly what he was asking. He nodded and Danny sighed, putting his head in his hands.

"Ben, can I talk to Arthur for a few moments alone?"

Ben looked between the two for a moment before nodding, going outside.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Danny asked in a whisper. "You died to get away from it all!"

"It wasn't like I was seeking her out! We've been back in London for ten years, Danny! I hadn't seen her before yesterday when my dog attacked Gene in the park."

"Wait...you hate dogs!"

"Is that really the big issue right now?"

"Sorry. I got off track. Why does your wife want to have coffee with Alex?"

"After Nero jumped on Gene, Sarah went over to apologise...and she knows the story behind Alex...but Alex invited her to coffee and she accepted."

"Did Alex see you?"

Mark shook his head. "I hid behind my book and Sarah said I was really shy about meeting people. But afterwards we had a row and she kicked me out."

"Over a cup of coffee?"

"It had suddenly gotten to her that my entire existence is a lie."

Danny smiled. "Not anymore. You _are_ Arthur Newton. Some of his past may be a lie, but his present, his future is real. That's the thing you forgot. It's only a lie as long as you believe it's a lie. Now, you better go find that woman and apologise, because I can't make you disappear again."

"Are you still part of..."

"I can't tell you that, Arthur," Danny said. "You know that."

Mark raised his eyebrows. "I know. Sorry. Just my immediate thought."

Danny smiled. "Go win your girl back. Oh, and did you become a bartender? Is that how you got your black eye? A bar fight?"

Mark put his hand up to his eye. "Shit, is it turning black? Ben punched me earlier. But no, I'm not a bartender. I'm a painter. I've got a little shop, but I'll sometimes do caricatures in Trafalgar Square."

"Lazy bum," Danny said, grinning. "Lucky bastard. Do you ever regret it?"

Mark shook his head. "That's when I started living."

Danny smiled. "Well, Arthur Newton, I'm glad that you have had a good life. Maybe we'll see each other again."

"After the past couple of days I've had, I won't doubt anything."

With that, Danny left and Ben came walking back in. "Well, I hope you're happy," Mark said as Ben sat down. "I've got a black eye and my old boss just chewed me out."

Ben smirked. "That's what you get for being a twat. Finish your breakfast."

"It's cold."

"Nothing wrong with cold bacon," Ben replied brightly.

Mark just stared at him. Ben sighed. "Okay _fine. _If you want to go, we can, but we're going back to the house."

Mark just nodded.

"Go check out," Ben said as they walked back to the hotel to get Ben's car.

"What if she just boots me right back out again?"

"She won't," Ben reassured him. "Get your things."

Mark sighed and went up to his room, putting his things together and checking out just in time.

"Follow me home," Ben said. Mark did so, feeling his nerves grow with each corner that they passed. Eventually, they reached the house. Mark got out of the car, staring at the house nervously.

"Come on," Ben said, leading him into the house. "Mum!" he called. "I'm here."

"In the kitchen!" Sarah called back. Mark noticed the note of sadness in her voice. He remembered with a twinge of guilt that when she got depressed, she'd bake endlessly.

"I brought someone back with me," Ben said as they walked into the kitchen. Biscuits of every sort covered the counter, and the floor looked like how it usually did at Christmas.

Sarah turned around, and Mark noticed the look of desperate sadness before it turned to raging fury. She dropped the spoons in the dough that she was putting on to the baking sheet and walked straight to Mark, slapping him hard across the face. Mark could have easily caught her wrist to avoid it, but let her slap him with all her might.

"You bastard!" she yelled as Ben silently walked out of the room. "You bloody walked out!"

"You told me that you didn't want me here last night," Mark said softly. "I thought I was doing what you wanted."

"Of course that wasn't what I wanted, you twat! I've spent the whole night making endless amounts of biscuits, convinced that our marriage was over."

Mark gave a small smile, pulling her in to him and kissing her temple, even though she tried to pull away. "If it makes you feel any better, I spent the entire night thinking the same thing. I couldn't sleep, I haven't eaten anything since lunch yesterday, and I couldn't stop thinking about how much I missed you."

Sarah was still trapped in his arms, but she had stopped fighting against him and looked up at him, tears swimming in her eyes. "I thought I'd lost you."

"I'm still here," he said. "If you'll take me back."

"Of course I will," she murmured, and they kissed deeply. "I'll cancel the coffee with Alex," she said when they broke apart. "It's not worth losing you."

Mark shook his head. "Have your coffee. Have your fun. And if I ever see them again, I'll reveal myself. But that doesn't mean that you can bring her here to meet me," he warned.

Sarah nodded. "Deal," she said and they kissed again. When they broke apart, she moved her hand up to his eye.

"Did you get into a fight?" she asked.

Mark smiled and shook his head. "Your son," he said, "made good on his promise to harm me if I ever hurt you."

"Ben!" she called, admonishing her son.

"He deserved it!" Ben called from another room and Nero barked loudly.

Mark raised an eyebrow. "Apparently Nero agrees."

"You know, there is still one problem that we have to work out," Sarah said, snuggling closer to him.

"What's that?"

"What are we going to do with all these biscuits?"


	16. Chapter 15: Surprises

**Chapter 15: Surprises**

Mark relaxed in the back of the shop, debating which of his paintings to put up next. Ben was in the front, manning the till. His shop had been doing well recently, and even though he had stockpiled paintings for years, the canvases in the back were starting to dwindle. There was one that had remained in the back for ten years, ever since they had first set up the shop. He debated about just setting the canvas up in the shop, but for some reason, he couldn't get rid of it. He'd moved on all those years ago, but still clung on to the painting.

Mark had no idea why it was. Part of him still thought that the painting _had_ to go to her. But the other part knew that her finding his little shop was highly unlikely.

He stood, grabbing a painting and taking it to the front. The bell tinkled as Sarah walked through the door and smiled at him. He smiled back, going over to kiss her.

"Gross," Ben said, sitting behind the till.

"Icky!" Emma called at them, her mischievous grin identical to her father's.

Sarah laughed, and walked over to her granddaughter, picking her up and swinging her in the air. Emma squealed delightedly. She looked over at Mark and he started to make faces at her, causing Emma to wrap her arms around Sarah's neck and burrow her face into her grandmother's shoulder.

"What are you doing?" Sarah asked, laughing. "Don't you want to go to the park?"

Emma's face reappeared immediately and she nodded vigorously. "Let's get you upstairs to get ready then."

With that, Sarah walked upstairs, and Mark knew that it would be ages before he saw them again. He hadn't realised the patience needed for small children until Emma came along. No doubt as soon as they got upstairs, Emma would want to play with any and every toy she could. Then would be the matter of getting her dressed right; Emma's clothing of choice was nothing at all. They knew she would grow out of it, but it was still irritating, and Mark had found that he wasn't as able to deal with Emma as Sarah. So Sarah was the one who would get her ready, and he was going to finish getting new paintings up in the shop. He started to hang the paintings, his attention caught by someone stopping by the window. He looked over, to see a brunette woman starting to turn away.

He caught the profile and slight widening of her eyes, before Alex was completely turned towards Gene, shaking her head of the thought that he knew had crossed her mind. She had thought it was him.

Mark put his face in his hands, remembering the conversation he had had with Sarah after their fight a month earlier. She and Alex had never had a coffee together; Sarah had told him that she didn't want to have a fight so soon.

"_I don't want to ruin our marriage," she said, lying in bed after they made up. "I've never had a fight like that with you before and it's not something I want to experience again. I don't want to lose you."_

_Mark had given a small, sad smile, looking down at the foot of the bed, where Nero had jumped after Sarah had opened the door to let him in. He was thinking, and Sarah knew, so did not try to interrupt him._

"_You know that Mark Evans died so that it'd give a reasonable excuse for why he disappeared. All those people I've lied to, they're all slowly finding out. Mum knows, Harry knows...Alex and Gene, they were at the top of the list of people I was escaping from." _

_He fell silent again, thinking. "You know the cliché goes that you can't run from your past. I thought that not having a past...since Arthur Newton __doesn't__ have a past...but I still can't run from Mark Evans'. I've run into Alex...well our dogs have run into Gene twice in Hyde Park. I have a feeling that one day, they're just going to walk into the shop and say 'hello, how've you been? We've actually known for eighteen years where you've been.'"_

"_Don't be silly. They don't know you're alive. If they did, they wouldn't have named their son Mark."_

"_And that makes me feel worse. They named their child after me because they thought I was dead. Now I pop up and I'm not."_

"_No," Sarah said firmly. "You keep forgetting __Arthur,__ that Mark Evans __is__ dead. You're a completely different man than you were eighteen years ago, and if you had stayed Mark Evans, you'd be a completely than you are now. You aren't him."_

_Mark smiled at her, pulling her into his bare chest. "Tell you what. If Alex Drake ever peers into my shop window, I'll go say hello to her. And hell, I buy Gene that beer that I owe him."_

_Sarah laughed. "That'll never happen. The chances of her finding your shop are one in a million."_

_Mark smiled back. "Exactly."_

And now, only a month later, here she was, outside his shop. He hesitated as they crossed the street, going into the pub that was across from his shop. No, there wasn't time now. Instead, he headed to the back room, where there phone was, dialling the number for the pub.

"_Black Lion, Paul speaking." _

"Hi Paul, Arthur."

"_Hi, why are you ringing me?"_

"That couple that just came in with the two kids, you see them?"

"_Dark haired, good looking woman with a blondish man?"_

"Yeah, that's them. Listen, give the man a beer."

"_What kind? In case you've forgotten, we've got rather a lot of them."_

Mark thought a moment before telling Paul Gene's favourite beer and promising to pay him later. The man hung up cheerfully, and Mark went to the back, writing onto a sheet of paper. He walked over to the painting, the one that he was only just debating hanging up to sell. He turned it around, pulling off the envelope he had bound there with sellotape. He opened the flap of the old and aged envelope, and pulled out the yellowed sheet of paper. He put it on top of the new sheet, stuffing the envelope with both sheets, sealing it and writing Alex's name on the front.

He walked out front to Ben, handing him the envelope. Ben frowned. "What's this?"

"Do you remember that picture I painted of Alex, all those years ago?"

Ben nodded. "Yeah."

"She's going to be in a little later, and I think your Mum and I should be gone by then. Give this to her, and the painting too."

Ben stared at Mark disbelievingly. "You seriously think she's going to be in?"

Mark smiled and nodded. "I'm certain."

Ben simply nodded. Mark could tell that Ben still didn't believe him, but he knew that he was right. After Gene received his drink, there was no way that they wouldn't be in.

He continued to pass the time by hanging up paintings, until Sarah came down, saying that she'd ordered a taxi. He was confused. Why on earth would she be ordering a taxi? However, Mark's stopped dead in the back when he heard Ben speak.

"It's...it's you."

"What?" Alex's voice made his heart nearly stop. She was _in his shop,_ something he'd never expected.

The conversation continued and Ben came to the back. "You're still here," he said, surprised.

Mark nodded. "Your mum wants to go somewhere and she hasn't told me where. We're getting a cab. But Emma's all dressy."

Ben frowned. "Weird.

At that moment, Sarah entered into the back. "What's going on?" she asked cheerfully. "Family meeting?"

Mark shook his head. "Guess who's in the front of the shop?" he asked, as Ben grabbed the painting with a look of uncertainty.

Sarah looked from Ben to Mark in disbelief. "No..." she said.

Mark nodded.

"Did you...?"

"He's giving her the painting and a letter. We'll see what they say," he said, as a taxi beeped its horn outside. They walked out, and Mark looked in the window as Sarah got in the taxi. Alex was looking out the window, holding his letter in disbelief. Gene's back was still turned to him.

Mark smiled and winked at her, getting into the taxi and shutting the door, turning to Sarah and Emma.

"So where are we going?"

"You'll find out when we get there," Sarah replied, smirking. Mark knew immediately that this was going to be something that he would protest against vehemently, but Sarah was going to make him do anyway.

"Well, why is Emma dressed up?" he asked, knowing how Sarah would react immediately. As expected, she just smiled and shook her head.

"You'll see when we get there," she repeated, much to his frustration.

Going on a journey without knowing where you were going was frustrating. To mark, it seemed to take forever. Much to his happiness, however, Emma was behaving herself. Part of this, he figured was that Sarah had brought along her bear, Mr. Tiddles, and a handful of sweets.

"Another?" Emma asked, looking up through her lashes at Sarah, her dark eyes begging for another sweet.

"No more," Sarah said kindly. "Not until after dinner."

Emma started to pout and Mark could sense a tantrum coming on. He smiled at her, pulling her onto his lap and kissing her head. He knew that sitting on his lap would calm her. She loved to sit with Papa.

Mark relaxed, letting Emma snuggle up to him. He held her, letting his mind wander. Why was it that Alex Drake kept reappearing in his life? Eighteen years. It had been eighteen years since he had disappeared. But here he was, revealing himself to her. What effect would this have on Alex? Was he even doing the right thing? _Had _he done the right thing all those years ago? Was he right by pretending to die?

He thought back to her case. If he was going to name it like a _Friends_ episode, it would be 'The One Where Mark Royally Screwed Up."

Mark sighed. Sarah really watched too much of that show. He would be glad when she stopped. He was very tired of hearing her declare that Ross and Rachel were meant for each other.

He shook his head. He was totally off topic now. He glanced out the window, looking at the Eye as they crossed Westminster Bridge before returning to his previous train of thought.

The case. He had screwed up the case. He had screwed up the case because he couldn't bear the thought of Alex hating him. After all these years, he still had no idea why. Why had he not been able to distance himself?

Sarah brushed up against him and smiled, her bright blue eyes twinkling. And then suddenly it struck him.

He remembered back to the day he had first seen Alex Drake. He remembered her looking at him, her hazel eyes hollow pits, except for a dull fire of rage that flickered deep within them. He knew in that moment that he had seen the depths of despair. He knew that he had seen someone who longed for death with everery breath she took. The ultimate despair that she radiated had struck him in a way that no one else ever had before. Nothing else had struck him like that since, either.

"We're here," Sarah said, grinning hugely at him. Mark knew that grin meant trouble. He definitely was not going to like was was about to happen. He looked at the sign on the building.

"No."

"I knew you'd be like this."

"Family photos are so _cheesy,_" he protested vehemently.

"No, they aren't," Sarah replied. "You're just a man. Although, Ben was the one who brought the subject up."

"I am not spending an hour grinning at a camera like an idiot."

"More like two," Sarah said softly. "Pay the driver, love. Look, Ben's here," she said as another taxi pulled up.

"I don't have any clothes. You two are dressed all nice, and I'm in jeans and an old shirt."

"Taken care of," Sarah replied as Ben walked up to them, holding a hanger of Mark's clothes. Danielle followed close behind.

Mark glared at all of them, Emma on his hip. "You're seriously making me do this?"

Ben nodded, his grin huge. "We've been planning this for months. By the way, that woman, Alex, left this for you."

He handed Mark an envelope. Mark looked at it. It was the one that he had written Alex's name on. He flipped it over. On the back, _ME _was written on the flap of the envelope, which had been sealed with tape.

"She left me a note," Mark said to Sarah, handing Emma off to Danielle as they walked into the studio. He read the note quickly, sighing and trying not to acknowledge the feeling of happiness within him.

"Do you have anything planned for Sunday?" Mark asked Sarah as Ben started to talk to the receptionist.

"No, why?"

"Well," he replied. "You finally get your coffee with Alex... only it's not coffee...It's dinner."


	17. Chapter 16: Returning

**Chapter 16: Returning**

Mark stared anxiously at the house he had been outside only a few days before. He had been pacing all day long; so much so that he had taken Nero out for four runs and then had taken as many showers. Sarah had had to stop him from shaving after the last three. His head was scrambled all over and he wasn't sure why. Alex knew he was alive; why was he so anxious about seeing her?

In his mind, he knew why. He didn't know how she was going to react when she finally saw him. She had seemed perfectly happy in her notes, but how would that change when she finally saw him in person?

Sarah squeezed his hand and he smiled at her, glancing down at the bag she gripped in her other hand.

"Did you really have to bring biscuits?" he asked dryly.

"Yes," she replied lightly. "Ben and Danielle already got four dozen. We've got another six dozen in the freezer and there's two dozen in this bag. And that's after I gave several dozen away to the postman, left them out for customers, _and_ gave a few dozen to the neighbours."

"How many biscuits did you make, exactly?" Mark asked, feeling a rush of guilt.

"Well, I can get a twelve on a tray, and they take about ten minutes to cook. So that's six dozen an hour, from about five in the afternoon until ten in the morning. So...twelve times six is seventy two... and five times six is thirty...so now take one hundred and two times twelve... that'd be..."

"Over twelve hundred biscuits. Jesus, Sarah. How did you have enough flour? And sugar...and everything else?"

"I knew I was going on a baking binge. I might have spent a lot at Tesco's."

Mark shook his head, staring at the door. "I suppose I should knock," he said.

Sarah smiled and nodded.

He reached up to knock, but before he could, the door opened and Gene stood there, his eyes glittering.

"Were you ever going to knock, or were you just going to stand on our step all night long?"

"Nice to see you too, Gene."

Gene raised his eyebrow and Mark could see a boy of about fifteen or sixteen behind him.

"Is this the weird bloke who painted that photo of you and Mum?"

"Mark!" a girl's voice admonished. "Don't be rude."

The boy looked at his sister and gave her a weary, sarcastic look. Gene was still standing in the doorway, so Mark replied around him.

"It's okay, love," he said. "Your brother just takes after your Dad is all." He smiled and winked at the girl.

"You're not doing well to be allowed in this house," Gene said gruffly.

"Gene, just let the poor man in," Alex's voice said, sounding irritated. Gene looked back and sniffed, stepping aside.

"Come in," Alex said as she turned to her children. "Weren't you two supposed to be going out?"

"I was waiting for Lily," the boy said. "Girls take forever to get ready."

Lily slapped the boy over the head as Mark and Sarah walked through the entrance. Alex broke into a huge grin seeing him, immediately embracing him.

"What do I call you?" she murmured.

"Whatever you want. In front of your kids, Arthur," he mumbled back.

"It's so good to see you again, Arthur," she said as they broke apart.

"It's good to see you too," he said, smiling at her. "You know my wife."

Sarah smiled at Alex, who looked surprised.

"You're the woman..."

"My dogs seem to love Gene," she replied as Alex started to laugh and Gene started to pout.

"If it's any consolation, Gene," Mark murmured, "the first time I met her son, Iggy used my groin to springboard off of."

A giant grin started to spread across Gene's face. Mark had never seen a smile that large on the man's face before.

"Good," Gene said, reigning in his emotions. "Mark, Lily, get to your friends."

"We're going!" the boy said. "Jesus, calm down!"

Gene just glared at the two and they left, kissing their mother goodbye.

As the door shut, Alex let out a strangled laugh. "I just...I can't believe it," she said, walking over to Mark. "Eighteen years...you've lost weight. And gone grey."

Mark smiled gently at her, using his skills to scrutinise her without her knowing. A scar ran down her cheek and her fringe had moved, revealing another scar on her forehead. Her smallest finger on her left hand was missing, just as it had been when he first met her. The real difference about her was the change in her eyes. All he had seen when he was with her was misery and the dull fire of hidden rage. Even when other emotions had started to come through, the misery was still underneath, making its presence known. Now, they were happy and carefree, though he detected a hint of worry lying underneath.

"You look just as gorgeous as ever," he said, his eyes connected with hers. She was staring at him intensely, and he was doing the same to her.

Gene coughed, a hacking, smoker's cough, and the spell was broken. Sarah walked forward, smiling. "I brought biscuits," she said.

Alex smiled gratefully. "I'll take these to the kitchen. Dinner will be ready in a few minutes."

"I'll help you," Sarah said, and the two disappeared. Gene looked at Mark, his lips pouting.

"Evans," he finally said stiffly.

"Hunt."

"I can't believe you're back," Gene said. "It destroyed her when you died."

Mark looked down, guilt washing over him in waves.

"How did she deal with it?"

Gene stared at him a moment. "She painted. She'd fall asleep in front of the easel. And then I finally got her to the psychologist and she started moving forward in leaps and bounds."

"You two were engaged by September 1985."

Gene nodded. "How'd you know that?"

Mark smiled. "Do you remember the homeless bloke who slept through you getting mauled by Iggy?"

Gene looked stunned, and then anger started to take over his features. "That...that was you?!" he asked indignantly.

Mark smirked and nodded. "I was cheering on Iggy every second of the way too."

"Oh...you..." Gene was speechless. Mark knew he was torn between amusement and utter rage, and merely watched the two emotions fight for control over Gene's face, smirking as the women walked into the room, laying out the roast dinner.

Gene let out a strangled sound and sat down, Alex looking at him curiously. However, he just started to serve himself so she said nothing. They made polite conversation over dinner, over inconsequential things. Alex quizzed Sarah over her job and family, and asked how they had met. Gene had quite enjoyed the story of Iggy knocking Mark over and the mention of the 'groin springboard' in Mark's first Christmas with them.

Finally, as dessert was served, Alex asked the question. "So...how did you...how did you survive?"

Mark looked down at his pudding, taking a deep breath in, knowing that this question had been coming all night long. He finally looked up at Sarah. She was looking at him, interested. He had never given her the full story, and she knew that. Finally though, she was going to get to find out.

"I made it through surgery," Mark said finally. "You knew that though. When I came to after the surgery, Danny was by my side. I told him I wanted out. I needed to get out. I screwed up your case Alex. You nearly died because of my mistakes. I nearly died. Gene ended up the victim of a bomb and lost his memory because of me. So I disappeared."

Alex nodded, looking down at her pudding, picking at it. It was silent for a few moments, until Alex stood. "I need some air," she said, walking out. Gene made to go after her, but Mark stopped him.

"I created this," he said. "I need to fix it."

Gene nodded in agreement and Mark walked out to see Alex sitting on the grass in the back garden. He went and sat beside her silently, waiting for her to speak.

"The last time we had dinner together it was Chinese and wine."

"I wasn't good enough for curry," he said, teasing her.

She smiled softly. "That night...I'd be lying if I said I didn't still think about it."

Mark gave the smallest of smiles. "So would I."

"So you don't regret that night?"

He shook his head. "I never have."

"Neither have I. God...when I was trapped in the room for the second time, thinking of you got me through it. Remembering that last night we spent together. Remembering you telling me that you loved me."

"I really did too."

Alex looked up at him, tears in her eyes. "Then why did you go? You screwed up, but I loved you. You loved me."

Mark shook his head. "Nothing about us being together was right, Alex. Can you honestly imagine yourself married to me now? A life without the twins? Without Gene?"

She looked at him, shaking her head. "But..."

"There's no buts in this situation, Alex. We both know that I was only there to help you get through your initial trauma. I was there to help you speak. I never should have fallen in love with you. Everything about our relationship was wrong. We met because you were..."

"Because I was handcuffed to a bed and you were undercover," she said softly. "And I fell in love with you because in my eyes, you were a knight in shining armour."

"I was never meant to be in that role, Alex. Hell, you were supposed to hate me just like you hated everyone in that building. And then, when it was over, I was supposed to disappear like a good little spook."

"I only had a week left to live by that point," she said softly. "Would you have let me die, Mark?"

Mark stared at her, at a loss for words for a moment. "If I had only done my duty and no more, we would have intercepted you before you walked into the station with a bomb strapped to your chest. We would have sent you on your way to hospital, and you'd have never seen me again."

Alex looked at him, and then down to the ground, playing with a dandelion she had picked from the ground. "I don't know what I would have done then, honestly. I hated Gene so much back then."

Mark put his arm around her. "We don't have to think about that, Alex. What happened, happened. If I hadn't have become so involved in your case, I would have never met Sarah. And I can't imagine what I'd be like if I were still a Spook."

Alex looked at him, her eyes sad. "I don't think you'd be happy," she said. "You were starting to hate your job even when I was with you. If you stayed in it for another eighteen years you wouldn't have been happy at all."

"You're right," he said. "I was getting miserable all those years ago. And you helped me realise that."

"So I was actually good for something," she said. "All those years ago...I thought I was worthless."

"You never were."

She smiled at him sadly and leaned into him. They sat like this for quite a while until she spoke again.

"Mark?"

"Hmm?"

"I still love you."

Mark pulled away from her, looking at her in shock. "What?"

Alex's eyes widened as she realised what she said. She shook her head.

"No, no. God, I'm sorry. Not like that. I've never stopped loving you, who you were. Your personality...the way you worked with me. But that love...it's not the kind of love I have for Gene. I still love you, Mark, but as a friend only."

"You scared me for a moment, Alex," he said. "I thought you were going to say you were going to run from Gene and make me choose between you and Sarah."

Alex laughed. "Would there be any difficulty deciding?"

Mark shook his head. "Sarah in a heartbeat, every time. I mean...don't get me wrong..."

Alex just smiled and shook her head. "I understand. God, for being a Spook, you're terrible at figuring things out!"

"Hey! I haven't been one for nearly twenty years. You can't blame me for my techniques being a bit crap."

Alex laughed again and leaned into him once more. "So, now that the secret's out, will you be willing to come see us again?" she asked.

Mark smiled softly. "If we do, you'll have to start calling me Arthur."

"That shouldn't be too hard."

"Oi, Evans, that's my wife you've got your arm around." Gene's voice rang clear in the yard.

Mark looked over his shoulder and smirked at him, seeing Sarah behind him.

"So? Good taste, leaning into me."

"In case you've forgotten, Arthur, you're married too," Sarah said teasingly, one eyebrow raised. She knew that gesture, and she knew that he only offered it in friendship.

"Oh, damn," Mark sighed. "Alex...they've figured us out."

Alex smiled, standing up. Mark stood with her. "Did you two have fun inside?" she asked.

"This woman, Bolls," Gene said. "She's going on about how Western's aren't the best film genre there is!"

"You two argued about that?!" Alex asked incredulously, leaning into Gene as his arm slid around her waist.

"He brought it up," Sarah said, linking her hand with Mark's. Neither gesture was trying to be possessive, Mark noticed. Rather, it was a natural expression of affection on both accounts. "Now he's trying to get me to agree to a movie day where we compare the best Westerns against the best horror films."

"Count me out," Alex said. "I hate both genres."

"Same," Mark said. "I know, why don't Alex and I have coffee, and you two can watch movies together?"

"I don't know, Evans," Gene said. "I don't think I can trust you with her."

"You can trust me. Besides, you'll have my wife to keep as ransom for yours back." Mark winked at Sarah. "And coffee doesn't always lead to something else."


	18. Epilogue: Gravestones

**Epilogue: Gravestones**

He walked through the graveyard, feeling the winter chill as the bitter wind blew across his face. He was wearing a heavy coat and a scarf, but still the cold snuck its way in, chilling his body to the bone. He was going to need to stop at a coffee place on the way home, he knew already. Maybe walking here wasn't such a good idea after all.

He breathed out through his nostrils, watching his breath form a cloud around his nose. He walked slowly down the path, taking no notice of the long dead leaves he was walking over. He only had one thing in mind right now. He knew that seeing the grave would hurt. But he knew he had too.

He turned off the path, walking over the graves of people whom he never knew that had been long forgotten by their families and relatives. No flowers graced the graves, no ornaments of any kind, and the engravings on the stones were starting to wear. It would be a long time yet before they were unreadable, but he could tell that they had been here for years.

He continued walking through the cemetery, where the headstones grew smaller and newer, until finally he stopped. He stared for a moment at the engraving on the headstone and knelt down, staring at it, still disbelieving. He stayed this way for several minutes, feeling tears start to burn in his eyes. He blinked them back, clearing his throat.

"Nineteen years. To this day, exactly." He looked down at his watch. "At this time, you were working. There was nothing wrong. She was still missing, but she had been for a week. You knew there was nothing you could do. In four hours, you were in surgery. In eight, you were dead."

He didn't know why he was so emotional, but his eyes continued to burn as he stared at the gravestone that paid homage to his former identity.

"I was dead," he whispered, his voice constricted. A few moments passed before he could speak again.

"I have to thank you. You died, so that I could live. You knew it was your time to leave. And if you hadn't, you would be miserable and I wouldn't exist. So...thank you..."

He knew it was weird to be talking to his own headstone, but at the same time, it didn't feel like his. It felt like a different person...it _was_ a different person. Somewhere along the line, he wasn't exactly sure where, he had stopped thinking of himself as Mark Evans and instead was thinking of himself as Arthur Newton. He was certain it had something to do with the woman he had met in Bath all those years ago.

"You thought you were happy with Alex all those years ago," he continued finally. "You didn't know what happiness was. I sound cruel, but it's true. Sarah's completed everything that I wanted to be, and I settled with her. I own a paint shop. It's _so_ relaxing. You'd be proud. In fact, you _are _proud. God, this is weird."

He coughed, staring at the cold slab of stone in front of him. He had gone numb from cold, but had not noticed.

"It's taken me nineteen years, but I had to say goodbye to Mark Evans. And...thank you."

He stood, staring at the engraving one last time, knowing that he would never come back to visit. Mark Evans was dead, and had been for nineteen years. His life had come full circle since the day of his death, and he wouldn't change anything for the world.

As he walked out of the cemetery, searching for the nearest Costa or Starbucks, Arthur Newton smiled. Finally, the past was at rest.

**Rant**

**The title of this fic was a promise to you. 'I swear they all live.' And although metaphorically this isn't true, and Iggy died along the way, I feel I have kept this promise. **

**Thank you all who have stuck through both of these fics, for those of you who have been reading for months or even years, from my very first fic.**

**With Mark Evans gone, I too shall take my leave. Thank you all so much for an amazing three year run.**


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